


Paradise Lost

by GraceBe



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2700584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraceBe/pseuds/GraceBe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is AU and plays with the idea of how life at Downton Abbey had been different if Violet had really eloped with Prince Kuragin. The story starts in 1912, before the sinking of the Titanic. This is an ensemble fic that focuses on Violet & Kuragin, Robert & Cora, Carson & Mrs Hughes, as well as some original characters. Enjoy and let me know what you think!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hugs go to my beta Gemenied. I couldn't do this without her!

 

 

 

**Paradise Lost**

 

 

"A proverb, referring to the loss of a seemingly perfect situation, desired by one or many.”

 

 

**Chapter 1**

 

**Downton, Yorkshire, March 1912**

 

**Upstairs**

 

The sudden coldness in Robert Crawley's chest was in contrast to the beautiful sight of the morning sun that fell through the windows. He sighed audibly as he put down the letter and looked up to meet his wife's eyes that sparkled with hope and her typically tamed excitement.

“ What do you say?” she asked, smiling.

“ What do you want me to say?” he returned, far less enthusiastic. “I can’t believe you answered her letter in the first place! And without telling me!”

Robert rose angrily and started pacing the library.

Cora’s smile faded slowly. She had hoped against hope that her husband would react differently. “But Robert, you haven’t seen your mother since our wedding. Don’t you think it’s time to get reacquainted?”

“ It’s very true. I… we haven’t seen my mother in over 22 years and I think it should stay that way!”

“ But Robert, she’s asking for it,” Cora argued mildly. “She wants to come home. She wants to meet our family.”

“ She’s got a family of her own,” Robert reminded her sternly. “She has a husband, two grown children and a rich and busy life in Paris. She’s already proved how much she cares when she didn’t bother to return for her own daughter’s funeral! I really see no reason why I should allow her to come to this house to remind her - and the rest of us for that matter - of what she has left almost 40 years ago. It would be most awkward to have her around after everything she has done to us!” His voice had risen during his small speech and Cora mentally braced herself for a longer argument.

“ Maybe she knows by now what she has left and wishes to make amends,” Cora suggested stubbornly. “And we know she wasn’t at the funeral, because the telegram we sent to Paris after the accident never reached her! She can’t be held accountable for that!” She knew how Robert felt about his mother and her leaving the family for another man. She knew Robert was still hurting over everything connected to her, although he would never admit it. Perhaps not even to himself.

Even after 38 years Princess Violet Kuragina, former Countess of Grantham, was a persona non grata at Downton Abbey.

“ My mother is hardly the woman to make amends,” Robert scoffed, ignoring Cora’s last statement.

“ I think we should invite her,” Cora repeated. “The girls should know their grandmother.”

“ The girls already have two grandmothers,” Robert returned. “And besides: how do you think Abigail would take my mother’s presence in our house? Do you remember the last time these two have crossed paths?”

Cora sighed. She knew Abigail Crawley, the Dowager Countess of Grantham and Robert’s step mother, wouldn’t be pleased about the visit of her infamous predecessor, but then Abigail was never pleased about anything that happened at the Abbey. She had never really coped with her move to the village, after her husband, the fourth Earl of Grantham, Robert’s father, had died and Robert had succeeded his father.

“ Abigail is not the question here,” Cora said, knowing Abigail was always a reason to worry. “I think you should consider inviting her. I think the time to end the hate has come.”

Robert thought about this for a moment. He had to admit Cora had hit a nerve with her request. A long time ago his father had found a way to forgive his ex-wife. The question was, could Robert do the same?

“ I don’t hate my mother, Cora,” he clarified slowly and in a calmer voice. “I’m just not sure how to live with her.”

 

 

 

**Downstairs**

 

Elsie Hughes entered the wine cellar and closed the door behind her. Surprised by the sound, the man who checked the contents of the shelves, looked up. He smiled gently when he noticed his visitor.

“ What can I do for you?”

“ Is it true?” Mrs Hughes asked with raised eyebrows. “His Lordship wants to invite his mother? Apparently her Ladyship told Miss O’Brien about it.”

“ Then she knows more than me,” the butler answered. “There was a letter from Paris in the mail today and the sender was his Lordship’s mother. That’s all I can say.”

“ But she hasn’t been here in ages!” Mrs Hughes said, surprise written all over her face.

“ Well, it appears, she wants to change that.”

“ Do you know her?” the housekeeper asked.

“ Yes, the Princess and her husband came here for his Lordship’s wedding and I do remember some rather unpleasant moments. Especially between her and the Dowager.”

“ Now that I can imagine,” Elsie said with a cheeky smile. “The Dowager is a rather mean woman when she wants to be.”

“ Although I can’t say that the Princess has backed down to her. On the contrary. If she really returns to our little nest, we'll be in for a very interesting, if not dangerous treat!” Lane smiled and the housekeeper returned his smile.

“ As long as she won’t mess up my maids, I’ll be happy to watch.”

Mr Lane was about to return the quip when the door behind them suddenly opened and a man peeked in.

“ Excuse me, Mr Lane,” he said. “But His Lordship needs you upstairs,” he informed him, somewhat coldly.

“ Thank you, Mr Carson,” Lane said, all friendliness and ease. ”We were done here anyway. Mrs. Hughes, we will talk later.” He gave her an appreciative smile and left the wine cellar without paying Carson a second look.

“ Is something wrong, Mr Carson?” the housekeeper asked, when she noticed that he was still looking at her.

The tall man shook his head. “No, Mrs Hughes, nothing’s wrong, but…,“ he broke off, obviously searching for words. “It’s just that….”

“ Well?” she encouraged him gently. “There are people who question your… behaviour. With Mr Lane.” Even in the half darkness of the wine cellar she could see how the colour of his face turned into a deep red. “You haven't been here for a long time. Don’t allow them to gossip about you. For your own sake,” he said lowly and left before she could respond.

 

**Paris**

 

 

Violet Kuragina stared at the pieces of the broken vase on the floor in front of the fireplace and wondered whether the servants would hear her, if she started screaming. They had just finished their afternoon tea and after hearing the news he had delivered she had lost it.

“ Have you really just thrown a vase at me?” Igor asked, amused and aghast at the same time.

“ Apparently,” she answered, already hating herself for her lack of composure.

“ You haven’t done that in over 25 years.”

It shouldn’t surprise her that he was keeping score about things like that, but somehow it did. And it infuriated her even more.

“ And if my memory serves me correctly the whole thing ended with us making love on the floor in this very same room.”

“ Now, it won’t end like this today. I can promise you that!”

His eyes glittered with the promise of knowing better, but he knew better than telling her so. There was only a certain amount of teasing allowed, before she would probably replace the vase with a knife.

“ I can't believe you told our son to marry that woman!”

Kuragin sighed. They had had this discussion before and the outcome was always the same. “Do you really think we're the right people to give advice on marriage?”

She repaid his remark with a raised eyebrow. “But she doesn't love him!” Violet argued. “She's a fortune hunter!”

“ But Alexander loves her. We'll only drive him away by telling him to let go of her. He's old enough to make his own decisions!”

“ In this case he's the first man of that sort I've ever come across!”

Kuragin smiled. “I can tell you about one decision I've made a long time ago. Nobody I knew approved of it and yet I went through with it. And I'm glad I did.” He gave her a loving glance that instantly caused her demeanour to soften.

 “We are different,” she returned lowly.

“ But it was worth the fight,” he reminded her and closed the distance between them.

“ Why don't we ask him to go to England with us?” he suggested, as he turned her to face him. “He can make up his mind there... and perhaps he'll meet a decent English girl that sweeps him off his feet?”

Violet couldn't hide her smile. So he wasn't as convinced about his own son's sanity after all. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“ Long enough to be sure that this trip could be good for something after all.”

“ Please, Igor, I have to do this.”

He sighed heavily. “I know. Yet I doubt it'll be rewarding. In the end you'll end up being hurt. Just like the last time.” He pulled her a little closer.

“ That's why I want you by my side,” she said warmly and caressed his cheek with the back of her hand.

“ I'm always at your side,” he took her hand into his, kissed it tenderly and bent over to place a soft kiss on her lips.

 

**~tbc~**

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

**Chapter 2**

 

May, 1912

 

**Upstairs**

 

Mary Crawley watched her step-grandmother with slight amusement, while the older woman pushed the asparagus around her plate with slight disgust. One could tell that the Dowager was even less pleased with the recent developments than with the food. Of course, the black clothing that filled the room didn’t do any good to improve the mood. After the sinking of the Titanic the family had lost two of their heirs at once and now a complete stranger was likely to become the new head of the family one day. This, combined with the prospect of their lost grandmother’s return to England was enough to put Abigail on edge.

“ So, it’s settled then?” Mary asked her father. “The lost sheep will return to England for the season?”

“ She’s hardly what I would call a sheep,” Abigail snapped before Robert could answer.

He chose not to comment and slowly sipped his wine before he answered. “That’s true. London appears to be a neutral ground for that sort of… reunion. I understood she wants to visit Rosamund’s grave as well.”

“ I think that’s a good idea,” Cora said carefully, always watching her mother-in-law from the corner of her eyes.

“ Seems odd that they decided to come to London during the season,” Edith said bewildered. “I mean, can you imagine them getting any invitations?”

“ You forget that her husband is a successful diplomat,” Robert answered. “And he’s still a Russian Prince. From what I hear he has made quite a name for himself in certain circles. I doubt they’ll have problems getting accepted.”

“ Of course, he’s a diplomat,” Abigail said smugly. “God knows it needs a diplomat to live with her.”

“ And money and position always makes the best of friends,” Mary added smugly.

“ I think it’s exciting,” Sybil smiled. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“ I would ration my excitement if I were you,” Abigail said. “I don’t know what’s so glorious about meeting someone who turned her back on all of you many years ago.”

“ But that’s it,” Sybil argued. “I really want to know what happened. Nobody ever talks about it!”

Cora tried to hide her smile. Sybil and her radiant excitement were always endearing to watch, even though it was misplaced when Abigail was on warpath.

“ If you ask me, it’ll be interesting to meet him,” Mary said. “The man must be something, if she dared to run away with him like some love-stricken teenage girl.”

Edith rolled her eyes. “Can’t you think about anything but men?”

“ At least I have reason to think about them,” Mary snapped back and Cora instantly intervened in a low voice, “Stop it now!”

But it was Abigail who ended the discussion with her remark. “Maybe lust-stricken… But love? I highly doubt that.”

Robert cleared his throat and tried to end the subject before the servants' hall would have a another subject to gossip about. “In any case, it’s settled and we all will try to make the best of it.”

 

**Downstairs**

 

In the hallway downstairs the butler thought about the last two hours and was glad they were over and done with.

Lane had watched the dinner with growing displeasure. The tension upstairs was high and he had a feeling that things wouldn’t improve once the family was in London.

 It always caused uproar downstairs when things turned ugly upstairs. People started talking and gossiping and in the worst of cases the family would notice, which would reflect badly on him. It was a vicious circle that was hard to break.

When the women had finally risen to leave Robert with his port and his cigar, Lane had drawn a deep breath. The worst was over. For today.

On the way to his pantry he met Mrs Hughes who just came out of her sitting room. “Are they finished?” she asked.

“ Yes, and thank God they are. The Dowager was certainly in a mood today.”

Elsie smiled. “So I heard. Thomas said she practically called his Lordship’s mother a…,” she stopped, blushed and lowered her eyes. “You know what.”

“ She did indeed,” Lane confirmed. “I tell you, Mrs Hughes, this is going to become quite ugly.”

“ I’m not surprised. With everything going on. Have they found the new heir yet?”

“ I think they have. But you know these things take time.”

“ I suppose they do.” She passed him and he looked after her. “Mrs Hughes?”

“ Yes?” she turned her head, but made sure her eyes didn’t meet his.

“ Is something the matter? You seem preoccupied lately.”

“ I’m fine, Mr Lane,” she answered quickly and went into the kitchen. Lane watched her with a frown. He had a hunch she was lying She had been avoiding him for several weeks now. Ever since Mr Carson had disturbed them in the wine cellar. Sometimes he wondered how exactly His Lordship's valet felt about Mrs Hughes. Charles Carson was a stiff sort, but Lane had noticed a certain glitter in the man's eyes every time he talked to Mrs Hughes. Not that she seemed to notice anything that wasn't related to her work. Too often she showed a rather tough exterior, but when she smiled one of her rare smiles, one could see how beautiful she actually was. He loved working with her, even though she had only been at Downton for two years. She had come as head housemaid, but half a year ago she had been promoted to housekeeper, after her predecessor had suddenly died of a stroke. She was perfect for the job, but being this good came with a price – her smile.

 

**Paris**

 

It was almost midnight when Violet was sitting at her dressing table, pondering over a couple of pictures that she had kept in her diary for the last 38 years. They showed a 12 year old Robert and a 14 year old Rosamund. She found herself staring at them quite often these days, because she thought they could steel her for the weeks to come.

She knew deep down Igor wasn’t looking forward to this trip and at times she wasn’t either. On the other hand she felt the strong need to return to the place where she had spent the first thirty-two years of her life. England was still her home and as much as she had enjoyed her life with Igor and her younger children, she had never felt truly at home in Paris or any other place they had lived over the years. But it wasn't just homesickness. She also needed to see her daughter's grave. The sad circumstances surrounding Rosamund's funeral were still nagging at her. Until this day she didn't know whether the family really hadn't bothered to telegraph her after Rosamund's death or if the several messages they had sent really never found their way to Paris.

She heard the door opening behind her and placed the pictures back in her diary and put it back into her drawer. Not so much because she didn’t want him to see her looking at them. She just didn’t want to talk about it.

Violet turned and was surprised to find him still in white tie.

“ Aren’t you coming to bed?” she asked, surprised.

“ Not yet. I just got a message from Alexander. The police picked him up.”

Her eyes narrowed and even though she knew what he implied she phrased her question nevertheless. “What do you mean? Picked him up?” her voice was sharp as a knife.

“ He’s in prison. He was drunk and got into a fight,” Kuragin informed her calmly. “And I have to get him out of there unless you want to do it.”

Violet gave him a look, “This is not the first time this happens. If it wasn't so embarrassing, we should consider letting him stay in there for a couple of nights!”

“ I doubt it would make much of an impression on him,” Kuragin said non-chalantly.

“ You mean he’s as impressionable as you are,” she quipped.

“ Not to mention his mother.” He gave her a smile. “I won’t be long. Will you wait for me?”

“ I might.” She turned her back to him and saw his smile broaden in the reflection of her mirror before he turned around and left.

 

 

~~~~

 

Igor returned about three hours later and found Violet asleep with a book on her lap and her glasses askew on her nose. He smiled at the sight of her and bent down to take off her glasses. 

She stirred lightly, as he tried to take the book, and opened her eyes.

“ What time is it?” she asked sleepily and sat up.

“ Early,” he answered with a smile. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

“ Never mind. What about Alexander?”

Kuragin sighed, “Apparently, he punched a man to defend the honour of his so called fiancé.”

“ I see. Will they press charges against him?”

He shrugged. “I don't think so. I'll talk to a few people tomorrow, but I'm not overly worried.” The smile had vanished from his face and Violet became worried.

“ So, what does bother you?” she asked lowly.

“ It's not Alexander. It was just when I saw him behind these prison bars...”

“ Yes?” she encouraged him gently.

“ I was thinking about Natasha...,” he broke off and when he spoke again his voice was raw, almost broken. “And what I would have done, if they had arrested her.”

Violet leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him. It didn't happen often that he showed his vulnerability in such an open manner. Igor Kuragin was a strong man with deep emotions, but she was one of the few people in his life who he opened up to and she loved him that. After a few seconds she felt how he relaxed and leaned against her. “She's fine,” she said tenderly. “Our daughter is safe.”

“ I hope you're right,” he said and buried his face in the crook of her neck. “I couldn't bear to lose any of you.”

 

 

**~tbc~**

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is up! Robert and his step-mother have a disagreement. Carson makes a heartfelt apology and we finally meet the children of Violet and Igor. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here we go with Chapter 3. Enjoy yourselves and be so kind to drop me quick note. Also thank my fabulous beta who does her best to make this puppy better than it is!

 

 

 

**Chapter 3**

 

May, 1912

 

**Dower House, Upstairs**

 

“The point is,” Robert stated as calmly as he could. “We will have to deal with the situation, whether you like it or not. Mama is coming to London. It's settled."

He had known from the very beginning that Abigail wouldn't like the idea of his mother's return to England. Yet last night he had been shocked about the way Abigail had spoken about her predecessor not only in front of his daughters, but also in front of the servants. If he hated one thing it was gossip and scandal.

Fact was he couldn't deny his mother to come to London. He had wanted to, at first, but Cora had convinced him to rethink his position and as so many times before, she had been right. There was no use in making things even more difficult than they already were. Casting a shadow over his mother's visit would be useless. The more smoothly everything went, the better for all of them. Once the season was over his mother and her family would return to Paris and they would go home to Downton.

“I don't see the point of this peculiar reunion in the first place,” Abigail said. She was sitting in her chair close to the window and Robert thought that today was one of those days were she looked more imperious than Queen Victoria ever had.

“And I don't see the point of you making such a fuss about it. You don't even have to talk to her, if you don't want to.”

“And you even offered her and her clan could stay in Rosamund's house. Your father would turn in his grave!”

“I doubt that,” Robert said. Abigail liked to think the late Earl had hated his former wife, but Robert wasn't so sure about it. He had his reasons to believe otherwise, but he preferred not to touch on the subject. He could have reminded his step-mother that Violet eloping with a Russian prince had been the reason for Abigail gaining the title of a Countess in the first place, but he feared that would be a battle lost, before it had started. She would always find a way to discredit someone she saw as an enemy.

“This woman will stir up trouble, my dear,” Abigail insisted. “I'm sure she has an ulterior motive for her visit.”

“And if she has one, we will find out about it soon enough,” Robert said. “All I want for you is not to incite the girls. I want this season to pass smoothly and if possible without scandal or too much attention!”

Abigail remained unimpressed. She shrugged and announced with all the posture she could muster:

“Well, if necessary I'll tell it like it is. To them – and to her for that matter.” With that she turned away, faced the wall, and Robert realized defeated that the conversation was over.

He had known beforehand Abigail wouldn't listen to him, but he amount of hate in her voice worried him deeply. When it came to Violet Kuragina Abigail seemed to lose her good judgement and her manners. And a loose canon was the last thing he needed.

 

~~~~~~

 

After Robert was gone Abigail rose and slowly walked over to her small Davenport and opened the drawer. It only contained two small envelopes without address or other identification.

She took them out and carried them to the fireplace.

After she unfolding the letters she skimmed the short messages and knew the time to take action had come. The telegrams had been written about five years ago and they had never reached their destination. Five years ago she had made sure Violet wouldn't return to Downton. This time her chances to prevent the worst seemed less good. In fact, she feared she was already beaten. All she could do now was to ensure sure neither Violet nor her family would enjoy their season in London.

 

**Paris**

 

Aside from the black eye that graced his otherwise handsome face, a very pale and obviously over-tired Alexander Kuragin sat next to his father in the sun-flooded dining room of the Kuragin town house. They were supposed to have breakfast, but neither of them was eating. While Alexander was just staring at the wall, hungover and hoping he could die before he had to face his mother, Igor was hiding behind the newspaper and his coffee. Last night when his father had bailed him out, Alexander had known the old man was furious with him. On their way back to the mansion Igor Kuragin hadn't spoken a single word. The silent treatment of his father was just the calm before the storm. Not that his father was someone who talked much in the first place. He was the listener, the diplomat who absorbed the facts, made up his mind and then found the right way to phrase his thoughts. His mother was different. She was just as sharp-minded as her husband, yet she wasn't a diplomat. She had a way with words that could cut right through one's heart and mind and, at least in the privacy of their home, she didn't bother much about the consequences. No, facing his mother's rage was not something he looked forward to.

“My, my... what a sight! My two favourite men are peacefully enjoying their petit-déjeuner.”

Alexander groaned annoyedly and Igor's newspaper sank. Unnoticed by both of them Natasha Kuragina DeWilde, dressed in a stunning ensemble of finest mourning clothes, had entered the room. She watched her father and her twin-brother with tender amusement.

“Dear Brother, I heard you had a very interesting evening.”

Alexander just rolled his eyes and pretended to be annoyed. He loved the banter with his sister, who was as witty as their mother, but much gentler in the delivery. For the first time this morning Igor smiled and put his newspaper down.

“Tasha!”

Both men rose from their chairs and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. Then butler offered her a chair.

“Do you want some coffee, Madame?” he asked diligently.

“Yes, please.... that means unless my pale brother will give me his,” Natasha quipped as she sank down on her chair and let her eyes linger on his filled plate.

“Get her some coffee of her own,” Igor ordered with a smile. As always when Natasha entered the room, Igor's mood was lighting up and Alexander was grateful for the diversion.

“You're up early,” Igor remarked gently.

“Only because Mama ordered me to,” Natasha replied. “Apparently she wants to dress me up for London. I'm here to pick her up.”

“It's about time you get out of these black things!” Alexander said disparagingly. “God knows that husband of yours didn't deserve to be mourned.”

The door to the dining room opened again and the butler came in. Igor gave his son a warning look and Alexander quickly changed the subject.

“So we are serious about this London visit,” he said. “I really thought we could skip the whole expedition.”

“It's your mother's wish to go there and we'll support her!” Igor's voice didn't leave much room for opposition and Alexander knew better than to argue, but in this case Natasha was the one who stood up for him.

“Alexander's right,” Natasha argued. “The idea is crackers. They hate her. They didn't even tell her, when her own daughter died. What kind of people exclude a mother from the funeral of her own daughter?”

“They don't hate her, but you'll have to understand that the situation was not easy for them either. I met them only once, but I find it hard to believe Robert would deliberately hurt her like that,” Igor appeased. “And they have offered us Rosamund's house at Eaton Square for the whole summer.”

“I know... Mama told me about it. Still, it's odd and I wonder what they're up to.”

“Enough of this now.”

“Our father, always the diplomat,” Alexander grinned and took a sip of his now cold coffee.

“All right,” Natasha raised her hands. “We go to London, hoping for the best and preparing for the worst.” Then her eyes skimmed over her brother's face and she smirked. “I don't know why someone gave you that black eye, but I hope she was worth it. It looks terribly painful and unattractive.”

Alexander didn't bother to return her smile. “Can't you pester someone else? Don't you have some in-laws who aren't tired of your jokes?”

“I'm afraid they don't like me as much as you do,” Natasha returned sweetly.

“Why doesn't this surprise me?”

“It's time you move back in here anyway,” Igor interrupted their banter. “I don't want you to live in this man's house.”

Natasha sighed. She knew her father meant well, but they had been over this numerous times. “We already talked about that. I'll get my own place, as soon as the will is settled.”

“This house is big enough,” Igor returned.

“But I want my own place. I can take care of myself.”

“We've seen that,” Alexander mused darkly, which caused his sister to lose her colour. He instantly wished he hadn't opened his mouth. “Sorry, Tasha. Forgive me,” he said gently and reached out to take her hand. “I didn't mean it. Of course, you can take care of yourself. Blame the headache.”

She didn't answer, but she squeezed his hand in return, which meant nothing less than that he was forgiven.

The door to the dining room opened again and this time Violet came in. She was already dressed in a purple coat and a large, magnificent hat. Her demeanour screamed business and Natasha quickly gulped down her coffee. The men rose and Natasha and her mother greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek.

“Good morning, Mama,” Alexander smiled at his mother, hoping against hope, she would return the gesture. Of course, she didn't.

“I hope you don't expect us to have you for dinner tonight. The Devereaux' are coming and I don't wish to explain why my son looks like a carnival barker after a lost renconter.”

“Of course not, Mama,” Alexander said and tried to hide a grin. At least he could escape a boring dinner without making up an excuse.

“Are you ready?” Violet asked Natasha. “It's time we get you some decent clothes.”

She went over to her husband and he kissed her on the cheek. “We'll have lunch at the Ritz later. Perhaps you can join us,” she said and gave him a discreet smile that he returned.

“I'll see what I can do.”

 

**Downstairs**

 

After lunch Carson took a walk to the village to post some letters. It was a mild spring day with a clear blue sky and a mild breeze. He took his time on his way, because he needed to think. As beautiful as working in a big house was, it also meant that one could rarely be alone. Life downstairs was always busy and if one needed time for themselves, one could only go outside.

He also secretly hoped he would meet Mrs Hughes. She had told Anna, the housemaid, earlier that she needed to run some errands this afternoon. After he had talked to her in the wine cellar some weeks earlier she had been avoiding him and he wanted, needed to apologize to her. He didn’t know what had possessed him when he had told to her about the others gossiping about her and Mr Lane. He was ashamed of himself about his impertinence.

Since he wasn’t particularly close to anyone downstairs he had grown to enjoy his occasional chats with her and it bothered him that she was spending so much time with Mr Lane. He knew that the two of them were in unique positions, which was the reason for their closeness. Yet, he felt there was something else between them. Something he couldn’t point his finger to. There was companionship, perhaps friendship, affection, and something he didn’t dare to think of. It was nothing one could see, only sense. Something mysterious and rather unseemly. And he wasn’t the only one who had sensed it. Miss O’Brien and Thomas, these two vile creatures, had also noticed and they gossiped about it. He hated to see how they dragged Mrs Hughes' good name through the mud – and even more he hated to think they could be right.

~~~~~

 

Carson saw her the moment he left the post office. She was leaving the store with a package in her arms. When she detected him she stopped dead for a few seconds, but then without acknowledging his presence she just walked on, heading for the Abbey.

He gathered all his courage and followed her quickly. “Mrs Hughes!” he shouted and to his enormous relief she actually stopped and turned around.

“Please…,” he gasped as he reached her. “Perhaps we could walk back together?” he asked gently.

“Only if you want to be seen with me,” she returned coldly, which caused him to avoid her piercing eyes.

“I want to apologize, Mrs Hughes. I realize I had no right or reason to talk to you the way I did.”

Her expression softened a bit and she shrugged marginally. “I know you meant well,” she said. “But I admit it, it hurt me. I don't know what makes you think of me as....”

Carson raised his hand, before she could speak it out and add to this enormous shame. “Please, forget it. Everything I said that night. I never intended to insult or embarrass you. It’ll haunt me until the day I die.” He was dead serious, but she just blushed and a smile broadened on her face.

“Oh Mr Carson!” she exclaimed and paused, and looked at him, forcing him to lower lower his head, before she could see how his face coloured. “I accept your apology and now let’s move on. The gong will be rung soon!”

Carson sighed in relief. Suddenly the bitterness between them was gone as they chatted in a never known familiarity on their way back to the Abbey.

 

**tbc**

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: This story is AU and plays with the idea of how life at Downton Abbey had been different if Violet had really eloped with Prince Kuragin. Chapter 4 is up! Things are heating up for Robert & Cora and for Violet & Kuragin! Elsie feels lonely and Carson is in for a nice surprise! Please note that Chapter 4 is M-rated!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it: chapter 4. For this chapter the rating changes from T to a very heavy T or a light M - I guess it depends on how you look at it. Consider it my early Christmas present. Thanks again to everyone who still reads and takes their time to write reviews. It's very kind and considerate of you! For those of you who are a little more impatient I can only say... I have a life. I have a job. I have a family. I'm busy and I can't write as much as I want to. The same goes for my beta. We are busy people and we do this for fun and we do as much as we can. You can accept that and support us or you don't. Your choice.
> 
> But now without further ado...

 

 

**Chapter 4**

London, June 1912

**Grantham House, Upstairs**

A strange atmosphere lay over the town house as the members of the Crawley family retired into their rooms and prepared for bed. The last couple of days had been unusually muggy in London and tonight the atmosphere seemed to exceptionally tense.

"This heat is unbearable," Robert said, as he peeked through the curtains, hoping to see a sign of an arriving thunderstorm. But he was disappointed. The few clouds that were scattered around the sky were nothing but false hope. "I wish we could get some rain to clean the air."

"I doubt that'll happen any time soon," Cora mused and looked up from her book. She had just finished to read the same page for the third time and still didn't know what it was about. She couldn't concentrate and decided to give up on it. With a tired sigh she closed the book and said, "Why don't you come to bed? We should be well rested for tomorrow."

Robert nodded in agreement, "I guess you're right, but I doubt I'll sleep a wink tonight."

Cora smiled gently. She knew what he was talking about. "Strange to think that she's already in the same city, isn't it?"

"Strange? I think scary is the better way to describe it," Robert answered roughly. He had been feeling nervous all day and now that they were alone it started to show. Suddenly he was so very nervous that he found it hard to breathe.

"I'm sure she's as nervous as you are," Cora said.

"You think so?" Robert closed the curtain and strolled slowly to the bed. "I can't remember her being nervous about anything. I barely knew her when she left. How I can deal with a mother I don't even know?"

"That's because you were a child when she left... You'll get to know her." Cora lifted the blanket and invited Robert to join her, but he hesitated, lost in his memories. "All I remember is a young, beautiful woman with blue eyes and a posture that could scare the Archbishop of Canterbury."

"And she was still like that at our wedding," Cora remembered amusedly. Meeting Robert's mother had been a terrifying experience, because the young American Cora had lacked the confidence to deal with the formidable figure of Violet Kuragina. Today the idea of encountering the older woman seemed less scary and much more entertaining – especially because Violet would probably give Abigail a run for her money.

"Tomorrow night you will know if and how much she has changed," Cora said and reached out to take his hand.

Robert returned the squeeze and slipped under the covers. "What would I do without you?" he asked and leaned over for a kiss. "You're my anchor in the rough sea of life."

"You're quite poetic tonight." Cora purred and sneaked her arms around his neck. She moved seductively against him and played with the top button of his pyjama shirt.

"You seem to inspire me," he said lowly and sighed as he felt her lips against his jaw. He knew she provided this rather welcome diversion to ease his mood and he wouldn't dream of resisting her.

"You know you can always count on me, when you need a muse," she whispered seductively and ran her hands over his chest and down his stomach until they reached the waistband of his pants.

"Oh, I do count on you," Robert answered now quite hoarsely because her wandering hands were already doing their magic.

* * *

**The Painswick Mansion at Eaton Square, Upstairs**

They lay in darkness, face to face, both exhausted from their love making. Neither of them spoke, as they just basked in their old ritual of peaceful silence. It had been always been like this between them, from their very first secret assignation. Back then words had been too much to handle, because their love had been forbidden. Today their memories were only historical details, yet these memories made sure, they never forgot about the lengths they had to go to to be together without feeling guilty.

Igor traced the beloved figure of his wife softly with his hand, hoping his tender touch could cure every insecurity she felt inside. As much as he understood her wish to return to her home country, he also understood the pain she forced herself through. Almost four decades ago she had left everything she knew and cherished to be with him, and he prayed that he had never given her any reason to regret her decision. Yet he knew that deep down she had regrets about leaving the family, that had counted on her, behind.

Violet was not a woman who took decisions lightly and the sacrifice she had made for him was the biggest imaginable. Even today he still tried to make it up to her, to compensate the loss of her old life. And often, despite her reassurances, he felt he was failing her.

He felt her stirring beside him, knew she wanted to put on her nightgown that lay discarded on the floor. Unable to let go of the moment just yet, he gently placed his hand on her naked hip. "Don't move," he said lowly. "Not just yet."

It was only in hours like this, when she lay next to him, naked and fulfilled, that she was her true self. He took pride in the fact that he was the only breathing soul on earth who knew Violet like this. Not even her first husband had seen this side of her, because if he had, he had known better than to lose her to another man.

Outside their bedroom she was proud, determined, even cruel when it was necessary, but with him she was this passionate, desirable creature who hid nothing from him. He knew her fears and her desires just as well as she knew his.

He placed his hand on her back and pulled her a little closer until their bodies touched again.

"Insatiable, as always," she mumbled, as his mouth travelled slowly over her cheeks, her mouth and then down her neck. He smiled against her skin and let his hands roam over her back where he ran his finger along her spine, which always caused her to tremble, no matter how hard she tried to remain physically unimpressed. Verbally refusing him was Violet's favourite ritual, while her body was already speaking another, much more reliable language. Some nights he played along and refused to give her what she ached for until she was begging him to release her. Sometimes he just ignored her statements and drove her into a frenzy that left her undone.

Inspired by the nature of their visit and the upcoming day, when they would face the Crawleys for the first time in 22 years, he decided for the latter and softly guided her onto her back. He lavished her body with kisses and well placed caresses until she became so vocal that he had to muffle her sounds with his mouth.

* * *

**Downton Abbey, Downstairs**

It was rather late, actually close to midnight by the time Elsie Hughes looked up from her book. Her eyes were tired and so she closed the novel with a small sigh. It was her second Dickens this month and she didn't know for how much longer she could take the bleakness it his stories. The coldness of his workhouses didn't fit the strange mugginess of the Yorkshire summer.

Since the family and most of the servants had left for London two weeks ago, reading was the only occupation she could think of to fill her lonely spare time. Between the cleaning of the house and the handling of the young maids who loved the idea of having the house for themselves, her books were Elsie's escape. Her life in Downton in the summer was a lonely affair. Especially the evenings were lonely. After the rather early servants dinners at eight there was not much left to be done. Of course, she could always call it an early night, but she wasn't the one who needed much sleep. She preferred a busy life to a lazy one and so she read, because that way she wouldn't have to think about anything else.

On evenings like this she particularly missed the ease of Mr Lane and Mr Carson's company. She missed the chitchatting and the eventual glass of sherry. She couldn't afford that kind of familiarity with the maids or the other staff under her care. Well, she could try with Miss O'Brien and Mrs Patmore, but O'Brien was a dark horse and Mrs Patmore would just try to steal the keys for the cupboards. So she just had the butler and valet to talk to and even the relationship with them had been rather complicated lately and the more she thought about it, the more she realized how she had brought this onto herself.

Ever since Mr Carson had told her how the other servants were gossiping about her and Mr Lane, she had shut everyone out. A panic she didn't understand or knew had taken over and had controlled her. For the first time in her life she had realized what it meant to be in the centre of gossip. Her reputation and, to some extent, her job, had been on the line. The feeling had scared her and so she had done what she did best. She hid inside her shell until she was ready to face the world again. But now her world was a lonely place.

Wearily she switched off the lights and slowly went upstairs to her room. The house was silent, peaceful, yet Elsie felt haunted and wished the season would be over as soon as possible.

* * *

**London, Grantham House, Downstairs**

Mr Carson knocked on the butler's door and respectfully waited until he was called in, before he entered. He found Mr Lane behind his desk. He had taken off his white tie and had opened the first buttons of his shirt. The sight was unusual (Carson blamed it on the hot weather) and he wondered what was going on.

"Shouldn't you call it a night?" Carson asked, slightly uncomfortable. He hoped the butler wasn't about to get ill, or something similarly inconvenient.

"I will, Mr Carson," Lane answered and rose to his feet. "But I first had to deal with something rather unpleasant."

Carson raised his eyebrow. "Nothing too bad, I hope."

Lane smirked. "Depends on how you look at it. I'm afraid I had to sack our housekeeper one hour ago."

Carson was shocked. He had known Mrs Butte for several years now and couldn't fathom what she could have done wrong. "What happened?"

"I'm afraid I found her in the wine cellar with the chauffeur of Lord Merton. And they weren't checking on the wine, if you know what I mean." He gave Carson a meaningful look. The valet didn't know what to say. He was aghast.

"What a very disturbing thought." He said and swallowed, hoping he wouldn't blush. "Did you talk to his Lordship?" Carson cleared his throat.

"Of course, I did and we agreed that Mrs Butte has to go." Lane sighed. "An unpleasant business, but she's brought it onto herself, I'm afraid."

Carson could only agree. He felt rather disappointed in the housekeeper. Her behaviour was undignified for a member of this household. "But can you find a substitute? What shall we do without a housekeeper?"

Lane smiled mysteriously. "I already had an idea and Her Ladyship agrees with me. I'll send a telegram to Downton first thing. Mrs Hughes will have to come to London."

Carson nodded slowly and deep down in his stomach a warm feeling started spreading. It replaced the anger about the other housekeeper' indiscretion and he started to smile.

"You're certainly right, Mr Lane. Calling on Mrs Hughes is the most practical thing to do."

Lane nodded, but his smile was fading while he talked. "I knew you would think so."

**~~~tbc~~**


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 5 is up! The Kuragins meet the Granthams... and Mrs Hughes arrives in London!

 

 

**Chapter 5**

**London, Grantham House, Upstairs**

Cora secretly watched her husband who had been watching his mother in absolute awe all evening. Whatever the family had expected from Violet, none of them had been disappointed. To Cora the Violet from today didn't differ from the woman she had met 22 years ago. She was formidable and awe inspiring. Cora was just not scared by her any more. To the girls she was as fascinating as an estranged relative could be and to Robert his mother was as unreachable as always. He admired her like a boy admired a Christmas tree after he had seen it for the first time, but didn't dare to approach it too closely, afraid it could lose its perfection. The only family member who was utterly unfazed was Abigail. So far she hadn't spoken one word. Actually she had even refused to welcome the Kuragins on their arrival and had only appeared at the dinner table, which was just ill-bred.

Aside from the frosty and downright hostile demeanour of her mother-in-law, Cora was rather pleased with the evening. She had put a lot of effort into the seating arrangements and it seemed to pay off. To keep Abigail at bay and to prevent uncomfortable situations she had invited Lord Merton, Mary's godfather and his wife to join them for dinner. And her plan was working out. So far the whole evening was much more pleasant than she had feared.

The Kuragins proved to be a very entertaining addition. Especially Alexander Kuragin was a lively, charming dinner guest, who could provide many funny anecdotes. His twin sister was more calm and collected than her brother (indeed she reminded Cora a bit of Mary), but was nevertheless charming and as she had to admit, strikingly beautiful. The Prince, who sat next to Cora, was understandingly reserved, but kind. Cora wondered how it must feel for him to sit at the table of the late Earl. If the idea was intimidating him, he knew how to conceal it.

"I hope you find the house at Eaton Square to your convenience," Cora said to Kuragin. "It hasn't been used for some time."

"It's a wonderful house. Thank you. We feel welcome there," Kuragin answered and added in a lower voice. "I think it's a comfort for the Princess to know her daughter lived in such a beautiful place."

Cora smiled. "I should hope so. Rosamund loved the house and she took great care of it."

Kuragin nodded gently. "You're rather kind to us. I wasn't sure your welcome would be so… warm, but I'm glad it is. I had reserved expectations for this visit."

Touched by his words, Cora lowered her eye lashes. "We do our best…. I think it's hard for Robert. He has to get used to all of you. He needs time."

"I imagine he isn't the only one," Kuragin said and looked at Abigail, who, rather stiffly, emptied a glass of wine.

"You could be right about that," Cora agreed with a sigh. "But she isn't the one who really matters in this, is she?"

Kuragin raised his eyebrows and returned his attention back to Cora. "I hope not."

On the other side of the table Robert and Violet tried to keep their own conversation going, which seemed rather difficult. Violet, who was usually the master of small talk, uncharacteristically failed to do so with her own son.

"We went to Rosamund's grave this afternoon," Violet said. "You've picked a very peaceful place for her and her husband."

"We owed that to her," Robert said with a lump in his throat. "After this horrible accident they deserved some peace."

Violet kept silent and took a sip of her wine. "I hope you find her house convenient," Robert continued. "I thought you might like it."

"I do…," Violet replied. "In fact, we all do."

"It's a marvellous place." Natasha who had been eavesdropping on their conversation quickly jumped in. "It seems to me they were a couple with great taste."

"They were," Robert said and looked curiously at Natasha and noticed her beautiful purple dress. "I was sorry to hear about your husband's death. I met him a few years ago."

Natasha seemed surprised. "Oh... he never told me so." Irritated by that Robert added, "It was a brief meeting in my club. He was meeting some business partners of his."

Natasha smiled, "Possibly. Jacques was always busy as a bee. May he rest in peace now."

"Is it true that he fell down his very own staircase and broke his neck?"

Suddenly the room was filled with silence. For the first time since she had entered the room, Abigail had spoken and she was now directly staring at Natasha who gave her a polite smile.

"Unfortunately that's true," Natasha said. "I found him."

"It was an unfortunate accident," Alexander added quickly. His usual smiling face was changed into a mask of stone. The threat hung in the air, but Abigail chose to continue.

"But weren't there rumours of murder?" Abigail asked. "I mean the police were investigating his death for several weeks."

Robert grew pale and looked quickly at Cora who struggled to come up with a diversion.

"Of course, they did," Violet said promptly. "That's called routine after an unexpected death." Violet gave Abigail a vile glance that was completely ignored by her.

"It must have been most unpleasant," Abigail said sweetly, still staring at Natasha. "You were in the line of fire, weren't you?"

"It was rather exciting, actually," Natasha replied, still smiling and took a sip of wine. "But they never had to print the wanted posters."

"Right. Thank God we could move on from this unpleasant episode," Alexander said.

"And so must we all!" Cora ended her mother-in-law's insulting interview with a firm look and changed the subject. "Have you made plans for the rest of the week?" she asked Natasha.

"Actually we were thinking of visiting the National Gallery tomorrow, haven't we, Alexander?"

"I'm your creature," Alexander answered with a twinkle in his eye. "Whatever you say."

"Maybe the girls and I could join you," Cora suggested.

"That would be fun," Sybil said delightedly.

Natasha and her brother exchanged a look, smiled at each other and nodded simultaneously. "That would be fun... unless, Mary and Edith have already made other plans."

Mary shook her head. "As a matter of fact, no and Edith is hardly in the position to turn down any offer she gets."

Edith rolled her eyes to the ceiling, but stayed silent upon the insult.

"It's settled then," Cora said with a smile and raised her glass. Robert said nothing, but nodded in agreement.

Across the table Igor gave Violet a smile, but her eyes were fixed on Abigail who was putting her head together with Lady Merton. Igor's smile vanished and he sighed lowly.

"As you see, we do our best to keep her in check," Cora said lowly.

"I know, but I doubt that'll be enough," he replied. She couldn't argue with that.

* * *

**Painswick House, Eaton Square, Upstairs**

"If that awful woman dares to talk to my daughter like this again, I'll throw her into the channel!" Furiously, Violet stared at the flames in the fireplace.

After their return from the Grantham House Igor and Violet had decided to have a drink in the library while Tasha and Alexander had already gone to bed.

"Tasha handled herself quite well," Kuragin said as he refilled his glass. "You should ignore the Dowager. Don't let her provoke you."

"Easier said than done. I can't believe Lord Grantham let her raise my children," her voice was low and she appeared lost in her thoughts.

Igor froze for a second and approached her slowly. "Do I hear regret in your words, my dear?" he asked lowly.

She jerked her head up and seemed surprised to find him standing next to her. "What did you say?"

"Do you regret it?"

"Coming here? No..." she shook her head.

"That's not what I mean. Do you regret going with me all these years ago?"

Violet lost her colour. "How can you think that?"

Igor smiled a humourless smile. "Because you lost your children because of me. Running away with me almost ruined you. Sometimes I wonder if your sacrifices weren't too great and you must, too."

Touched by the sadness in his eyes, Violet reached out to caress his cheek. "No. We've talked about this ad nauseam. The only thing I regret is not coming here earlier. I missed out on too much of their lives."

"Are you sure, that's all? Are you sure I've made you happy enough to justify... us?"

Violet shook her head and took his hand. She squeezed it tightly and looked him in the eyes.

"I don't have to justify anything. Not to the old bat or to anyone else."

* * *

**Grantham House, Downstairs, the next morning**

Mrs Hughes arrived shortly before lunchtime. She hadn't been in London in years and the prospect of managing the town house of the Granthams on her own for the first time excited her a bit, but, of course, she was more than willing to get on with it. But before she took her time to acquaint herself with the house, she knocked at Mr Lane's door. She was curious about the circumstances of him summoning her and deep down inside she also wanted to see him alone.

"Mrs Hughes!" he greeted her with a bright smile. "I'm glad you're here! The maids were already afraid I would start to give them orders!"

She smiled upon the joke and closed the door behind her. "I'm sure they're as surprised as I am. So… why am I here? Your telegram was rather ominous."

"I know…," he seemed to hesitate, before he offered her the chair in front of his desk.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't be more specific, but I thought it was better this way. You see, we had to sack Mrs Butte."

"My, my…." Elsie was stunned. "I thought she had fallen ill or something."

"I'm afraid the 'or something' is the case."

"What did she do?"

"She forgot to lock the door," Lane explained darkly.

"I beg your pardon?"

Lane chuckled. "Mrs Hughes…. I didn't expect you to be so naïve…. Last night I found her in the wine cellar in a rather uncomfortable and awkward situation with one of the guest's chauffeurs."

"Oh." Elsie swallowed and blushed. She quickly lowered her gaze and looked at her neatly trimmed finger nails.

"As you can imagine it gave me no pleasure to execute the task of signing her off," he said bitterly. "But she gave me no choice. Unfortunately."

"I see. Poor woman. I imagine she didn't receive a proper reference." She didn't dare to look up, but she felt Mr Lane's gaze upon her and it caused a shiver down her spine.

"As a matter of fact, I did give her a proper reference."

"That was kind," Elsie said lowly.

"It was the least… and the best I could do for her." For several moments neither of them said a word. Then Lane straightened up and cleared his throat.

"Her Ladyship hasn't decided yet, whether she wants to hire a new housekeeper, so you'll have to stay for the time being."

Elsie finally looked up again and met his eyes. "I see."

"I hope that's not too inconvenient for you," Mr Lane said staidly. Now the corners of her mouth twitched in irony. As if she had any other choice….

"Not at all."

Lane smiled. "I'm glad to hear it."

She rose and smoothed her skirts. "I think I have to get to my work."

"Yes, you should. I think the others will be glad to see you."

She crocked her eyebrow. "You think so?"

The answer came without hesitation. "I know so. I'm not your only admirer."

Against her will, she blushed again. "Flatterer," she whispered more to the door than to him and left his office. Lane leaned back with a sigh, glad she was the kind of woman who would never forget to lock a door when necessary.

**~~tbc~~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A happy New Year to all of you! I hope you could spend some nice holidays with your loved ones! Here's a new chapter. The one so many of you have asked. Finally the Granthams and the Kuragins meet face to face! Read and see for yourself who is about to make some new friends and who is ready to fight old, but never boring battles! Also in this chapter: Mrs Hughes arrives in London and receives some unsettling news!
> 
> A tight hug goes to my beta, Gemenied. A marvellous friend. Every mistake you may find is my mistake, not hers.


	6. Unwelcome Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail pays Violet an unpleasant visit and Mrs Hughes & her admirer have a heart to heart!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter 6, which I hope you will enjoy. The plot is slowly thickening one could say. Let me know what you think, because that'll tell me, if it makes sense to develop the various plotlines or not. Thanks for reading!
> 
> I also say thank you to my beta "Gemenied", who just this... a gem :-)

 

 

**Painswick House, Eaton Square, Upstairs, the next day**

Violet was not amused when her maid woke her up before 8 o'clock, but she wasn't honestly surprised when she was told the reason for that was an early visitor. No other than Abigail Crawley, Dowager Countess of Grantham.

"The woman is as subtle as an elephant," Violet growled and sat up in bed. "But she's wrong when she thinks she can march right into this house and shake us up!"

"Send her away," Igor yawned next to her. His eyes were still closed and he seemed rather unwilling to start the day yet. "Summon her for tea... next year."

"Oh no. I bet she spent a sleepless night thinking of something to do to me. I don't want her efforts to go to waste."

Finally Kuragin opened his eyes and looked up to her. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Violet gave him a smile. "Thank you, but I've got my own claws to show."

"As long as you don't use them on me, I shall be content with them." He took her hand and kissed her finger tips "Don't let her get under your skin. She's not worth it."

**Grantham House, Downstairs**

After dressing his Lordship Carson returned downstairs. He wore a bright smile on his lips and felt more exhilarated than he had in months. The first person he had come across this morning had been Mrs Hughes who had arrived the day before. Just as he, she was an early riser who loved to have time for herself in the morning, before the usual routine absorbed her.

He found himself looking for her every time he passed the hallway and today was no exception. He passed her office and wanted to enter it, but stopped dead in the doorway when he noticed she wasn't alone. She was talking to Mr Lane. The butler had turned his back to the open door and he had lowered his voice, but Carson involuntarily overheard a few snippets of their conversation.

"Just five minutes... we need to talk."

"All right," the housekeeper whispered. "Tonight... when they're all gone."

Quickly Carson withdrew, pretending he hadn't noticed a thing. Whatever their conversation was about wasn't his business, but he would be lying if he said it didn't bother him.

**Painswick House, Eaton Square, Upstairs**

Abigail had waited for over an hour, before Violet finally appeared downstairs. Abigail had always wondered how a woman who had so recklessly thrown away her reputation and her family could still behave as if she were a lady. Many years ago when Violet visited Downton to attend her son's wedding she had walked around the Abbey as if she still owned it and today, in her late daughter's home, she behaved in the same arrogant manner. Apparently, the years she had to spent in the shadows had not taught her a lesson and so it was on Abigail to ensure Violet received a lesson she wouldn't forget.

"I hope you didn't get bored waiting here on your own," Violet said, after she had closed the door. "But we only expected sales people or the Salvation Army at this early hour."

She crossed the room with slow and deliberate steps. Abigail was sitting in an armchair, still fully dressed with an expression on her face that could freeze an iceberg.

"But I see they got you some tea." Violet looked at the tray that wasn't touched.

"I'm not here for pleasant small talk or for tea," Abigail said. "I rather think it's time we set things straight."

Violet smiled gently and sank onto the sofa. "Well, shoot then. I'm all ears."

Abigail drew a deep breath. "I resent you being here. I think you and your whole tribe belong into a hole where no one can find you. You had your little adventure by coming here, but it has and will end here and now. Take your husband, your children and go back to Paris."

Violet looked attentively at her visitor. "I see. Well, you and I go back a long way. I really thought you would find kinder words to express your wishes, but as you wish... Now let me set some things straight. Neither I or my tribe, as you call them, have the slightest wish to leave. You'll have to get used to our presence at my son's table and if you find you are unable to do so, you can stay away, though I doubt you will. You are always afraid of missing something when you're not around."

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" Abigail hissed. "Playing the grand lady when everybody knows what you are?! You'll ruin Robert's reputation just like you ruined his father's when you ran away like some silly scullery maid!"

Violets' eyes narrowed dangerously, but she kept her tongue. This was dangerous terrain, but she didn't want to do Abigail the favour of losing her temper. Instead she took the small bell from the table and rang.

"If that's all they'll see you out." She rose and waited for Abigail to do the same. But the Dowager remained in her chair and looked up to Violet. She wasn't beaten yet and she hadn't expected to impress Violet in the first place.

"You know, Lord Grantham told me what happened after Robert's wedding when we all were asleep."

Violet stopped in her movement and looked confused at Abigail. "I beg your pardon."

Abigail smirked, "He told me how you tried to seduce him. Not that he was interested in you, but of course you believed that every man had to be under your spell. He told me how tired you were of your life in Paris with this Russian savage... how you threw yourself at him and begged him to take you back. How you made an utter fool of yourself...," Abigail's voice trailed off and she waited for the meaning to settle in.

"That's a downright lie," Violet said firmly. "And I'd advise you not to tell lies. They usually leave a bitter taste in one's mouth."

"I wonder how the Prince would react to such a revelation," Abigail continued and slowly rose. "I can imagine it wasn't easy for him to let you go back to England... from what I hear he's the jealous type... quite passionate when it comes to you. I'm sure he wouldn't take the news of you being... attempting to be unfaithful with your former husband, too well."

"He wouldn't believe you." Violet's gaze was steady, as was her voice.

"Perhaps not at first... but I bet he would spent a serious amount of time thinking about it. After all he knows what you're capable of. He knows firsthand how easy you stray and how you can turn a man's head."

Violet stared at Abigail and opened her mouth, but before she could phrase her thoughts, the door opened and the butler appeared.

"Think about my proposition, Princess," Abigail said, as she passed her. "It could benefit the both of us."

**National Gallery**

"There's one thing I don't quite understand," Mary said to Alexander Kuragin, as they strolled through the exhibition in the Salisbury Wing. She and Alexander had separated from the rest of the group, while Sybil, Edith, Cora and Natasha were still in the room behind them.

"What do you want to know?"

"You don't have a title, but shouldn't you be a Prince as well?"

Alexander chuckled. "Under normal circumstances, yes. But since our family is a little different, no. As I understand, it was some kind of deal my father had to make with the Tsar. My mother is a Princess, but in case, they would have children, they wouldn't receive any Russian honours."

"Do you mind?" Mary asked, a bit bewildered.

Alexander shook his head, "No. We've lived quite well so far... of course, we've had some rough times at school, but we Kuragins stick together."

Mary didn't even pretend to understand. "I'm not sure, I could live like this."

"You're young," Alexander said. "At your age I felt the same, but as I grew older and took a closer look at my parents, I started to understand."

"What did you understand?"

"Love. My parents love each other and that's why they thought it was worth the risk and the consequences. I think it was worst for my mother. She had to carry the biggest burden, because women always pay the highest price when things become unconventional. She had to endure the gossip, the rumours, the disregard, but in some ways she's made of steel and she never talked about it – at least not to us."

Mary shook her head. "I don't know, if I could summon the courage."

Alexander smiled at her. "I think you're more like her than you think."

"I'm not sure Papa would like to hear that," Mary said and lowered her eye lashes.

"Perhaps not, but once he and Mama have talked it all out, he will. You know... people say I'm not married yet, because I can't settle down, but the truth is..."

"Yes?"

"I want what my parents have. The kind of love that makes it worth to throw everything away."

"You're quite a romantic."

Alexander chuckled, "Could you please tell that to my mother? She thinks I only want to rob her off more grandchildren."

Behind them Edith couldn't help, but to watch Mary and their new-found uncle closely.

Only someone like Mary could actually start flirting with her own uncle. She wasn't sure she really liked the new additions to their family. Not that anyone had really asked for her opinion in general, aside from Grandmother Abigail.

They seemed a bit too exhilarating and too self-confident for a family that was notorious in their circles. With a background like this Edith would have expected them to be more low key and humble, but the contrary was the case.

Her grandmother and her husband were imperious and especially Violet seemed rather aloof. Natasha DeWilde was scary in her beauty and reminded her of Mary, though she was less arrogant, but therefore mysterious in her silence. Alexander Kuragin was the opposite of this sister. He was dashing and entertaining, the kind of man who would never look at someone like Edith.

She wasn't sure she wanted to have them around for longer, it was already enough that everyone was on the edge, because the new heir would arrive at Downton in September. The Kuragins could only complicate life for all of them.

**Grantham House, after dinner, Downstairs**

The key turned in the old lock and the twitchy light of the old oil lamp produced distorted shadows along the walls of the wine cellar. It was late, the guests had left and the family[,] as well as most of the servants, had retired.

She felt ridiculous being down here with him, only a week after he had sacked Mrs Butte, but she hadn't rejected his request to meet in here either.

"This is insane," Elsie said lowly, as if she was afraid someone could overhear them.

"Do you have a better idea?" Lane asked. "I know, it's grotesque to meet in here, but there's no place in this entire house where two people can have a private conversation without being under surveillance."

She sighed. "I'm not sure I want this."

"Well, at last you've certainly made clear in the last few weeks that you don't want to see me privately any more. I just want to know why."

"I think you know why! People were talking!"

"They know nothing. They just love to gossip!" He sighed out loud and crossed his arms over his chest. "You regret it, don't you?"

She blushed. "I haven't said that."

"You don't need to. I can see it every time you look at me."

"I don't regret it. It just shouldn't have happened." She shifted from one foot onto the other, uncomfortable with the situation. "We can't afford this... weakness. Not in our positions."

Lane cracked a smile and stepped closer. "That's where we differ. I think our positions isolate us... we're lonely people and we can only rely on each other. That's not weakness." He raised his hand to touch her cheek. "I understand, if you don't want more, but let me be your friend at least."

Elsie repaid his tender gesture with a smile and placed her hand upon his. "I'd thought that's what we already are... friends."

**Grantham House, after dinner, upstairs**

"You can't be serious!" Abigail glared at her daughter-in-law, as if Cora had just told her to drop dead. Cora had asked Abigail into the library, because she didn't want to tell her mother-in-law her latest plan in company. She feared the older woman's reaction, yet she was determined not to back down.

"Oh, I am and Robert agrees with me," Cora answered smoothly. Abigail had always hated Cora's accent, but it never had been more annoying than today. Cora's brazen way of undermining her angered her beyond measure.

"You can't invite this woman and her tribe to Downton! You have no right to!"

"Oh, it's my house and I have every right to," Cora reminded her. "It's good for Robert."

"That's ridiculous!"

"What are you so afraid of?" Cora asked. "No one is threatening your position in the family!" Abigail jerked around and Cora realized she had struck a nerve.

"I know that!" Abigail shot back. "But don't you fear the influence this woman could have on the girls and their reputation, not to mention their whole future? With a notorious grandmother like her... Not to mention her children! One is a murder suspect and the other one a skirt chaser!"

Cora cut her off. "I think you exaggerate. And our decision is made. I've already written to them. Prince Kuragin and his family will be joining us in September!"

"So, you'll have the new heir and those people around the house together?" Abigail asked appalled. "He'll be delighted to be welcomed in a notorious home like ours!"

"He's a middle class lawyer from Manchester," Cora reminded her. "I doubt he'll be as disgusted as you are."

"I'm disappointed in you, Cora," Abigail hissed. "I always knew you had less class than the dignity of your position demanded, but that you could sink so low is a surprise!"

For a moment the women just glared at each other, then Cora turned around and strolled to the door. "I should hate to be predictable. And if you will excuse me now, I'm tired. Lane will see you to the door."

**~~~~tbc~~~~**


	7. New arrivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome Matthew & Isobel!

 

**Crawley House, September 1912**

 

“ _And I agree. The whole thing is a complete joke.”_

Matthew Crawley watched on, as Lady Mary Crawley spurred her horse and left him behind. He and his mother had arrived at the village about half an hour ago and he had already made an utter fool of himself. Now he really hated his position as the new heir with a passion and he hadn't even seen the estate yet.

“ This is going to be fun,” he mumbled, annoyed with himself, and went back into the house. Surely his mother had to share her own opinion about their first meeting with a member of the family whose head he was destined to be.

“ Did you apologize?” Isobel Crawley asked her son when the returned into their future home.

“ Let's say my efforts were useless,” he answered, much to Isobel's dismay.

“ Well then, we should try to make tonight's dinner a success. You know what they say about first impressions.”

Matthew didn't dignify his mother's statement with an answer, but she didn't seem to expect one.

“ Let's have some tea,” he said, hoping the subject matter was closed at least for now.

 

~~~~~~~

 

**Downton Abbey, upstairs**

 

A few moments after Violet had dismissed her maid her husband knocked at the door that connected his bedroom with hers. She gave her husband a bewildered look when he leaned against the door frame, visibly unhappy about something.

“ Since when do you knock?”

“ Since when do I have to sleep in another room?”

Violet rolled her eyes. “You don't have to sleep there – unless you want to, of course.”

He shook his head in amusement. “From what I heard from my valet on the subject, your son and his wife share the same bedroom. But it seems he doesn't want to grant me the same pleasure.”

“ My suspicion is Cora didn't want to ask, how we handle it, and therefore she decided to be as diplomatic about it as possible, and gave us connected rooms.”

Kuragin sighed, but didn't comment. Instead he strolled over to the window and took a look outside. Not that the landscape seemed to be of much interest to him.

“ I promise, we won't stay forever,” Violet said, as if she had been reading his mind. She rose from the small chaiselongue in front of the bed and leaned against him.

“ I just couldn't reject their invitation.”

“ Of course, you couldn't.”

“ I haven't thanked you for all this yet, have I?” she asked tenderly.

“ There's no need to thank me, as long as you're happy. It's all I want for you.”

“ But?” Something was obviously bothering him and she needed to know what it was.

“ You still haven't told me what the Dowager wanted from you when she came to see you.” His brown eyes tried to read the truth behind the fake smile, he had seen so often before.

It fool him. Not after nearly 40 years at her side.

“ I told you, all she did she was huffing and puffing like an old, overused kettle of tea.”

He tipped against her chin, unwilling to be satisfied with her attempt to avoid a straight answer. “You told me she wanted to blackmail you, but you haven't told me, what exactly she was holding over your head.”

“ Well, the fact that we are here today and she hasn't come forward to spill dirt over us, obviously means she had nothing over me,” Violet replied casually. “She's just bitter and angry, because we didn't end up on Champs-Elysées, playing the balalaika to earn money for food and shelter.”

“ Still, I would feel better, if I knew what she threatened you with.”

“ That's not necessary. I've told you, I can fight my own battles.”

Violet knew she was far from convincing him to leave the matter alone, but there were things in her life she didn't want to share – even with her husband. She was still her own person and there were things in her life memories of which she wanted to be buried - once and forever. She never really believed Abigail would go through with her threat, because there was no way, she could prove her lie. Abigail had merely tested her and it kept Violet on her toes. She was sure the old battle axe had something up her sleeve and it was just a matter of time, before she would attack. And when she did, Violet would know how to react.

“ I know you can fight your own battles. God knows I don't want to be on the receiving end of your anger more than I've already been, but I wish you would trust me more.”

“ I do trust you,” she assured him. “I just don't want to bother you with her nonsense. So, have you made your decision by now?”

“ What decision?”

“ Whether you want so sleep here or in the room next door.” With an alluring smile on her face she took a step backwards and started to pull out her hair pins. Very slowly and one by one.

“ It's not even two o'clock,” he remarked mischievously and watched her hair falling over her shoulders, strand after strand.

“ Enough time until tea.”

It was an invitation he couldn't resist. “I know you're only trying to change the subject,” he said, while he closed the distance between them. He pulled her to him and dug his hands into her long hair. He held her close to him, his mouth only inches away from hers. “What will the proper, English maids around here say, when they realize your bed has been used even before tea?”

“ I think they are much harder to shock than you think,” she returned coyly and met him in a passionate kiss. “Does my distraction work?” she asked, slightly panting, as she bent back to have a look at his face.

“ Was there ever a time when it didn't work?” He kissed her forehead and let his mouth travel south over her face, her jaw and down to her neck....

 

~~~~~~~ 

 

**The Dower House, upstairs**

 

“So, I heard the new heir arrived today?” Abigail asked Edith, as they shared some tea. 

“ Yes, Mary went there to invite them for dinner tonight. She said the mother seemed nice enough, but he seemed rather... full of himself. That coming from Mary must mean something, I guess.” Edith shrugged.

“ Your sister has her own way of looking at things,” Abigail reminded her. “Remember, she's not as reasonable as you are, dear.”

“ Thanks, Grandmama.” Edith blushed slightly. She wasn't used to receiving compliments and didn't quite know how to handle the praise and so she looked down to her lap.

“ So, how are your other guests doing? I understood, they arrived this morning?”

Edith nodded. “They did. We've had lunch together. I think it's the first time I've seen Papa and Grandmother Violet to have a conversation that lasted longer than one minute.”

“ I see.” Edith could tell that Abigail wasn't happy about her observation. “So, so it's just us and her tribe as well as the new heir tonight?” Abigail asked.

“ Mama told me she invited the Greys as well.”

“ Oh, again?”

“ Yes.”

Abigail wrinkled her forehead.

“ I thought you and Lady Merton were old friends?” Edith asked.

“ Oh, we are, dear, we are,” the older woman said quickly, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. “We are.”

“ Is something the matter, Grandmama?” The strained look on Abigail's face worried Edith.

“ Well...,” Abigail drew a deep breath. “I'm not sure I should bother you with it.”

“ How do you mean?”

“ You know.... your other grandmother Violet and I go back a long way.”

“ I know. I think Papa told me once, you were friends. You debuted together, didn't you?”

“ Yes. We were as thick as thieves, until....”

“ Until what?” Edith had never heard the whole story and she sensed that the moment to learn more about the strained relationship between the two women had finally come. For once she would be into a secret, before anyone else was – especially before her older sister.

“ You know Violet was the daughter of a Baronet, but the family was rather poor and their only chance to survive was marrying into a family with money and a higher status. You see, your grandfather and I were very fond each other and he wanted to marry me, but she did her best to split us up, because in him she saw her only chance to save herself and her family from social ruin. She knew I loved him, but she didn't care.”

“ You mean, she actually stole him from you?” Edith was shocked. “But that's horrible, especially when you think about what she did to Papa and Aunt Rosamund.”

Abigail smiled innocently and sighed, apparently relieved, “I'm glad, you see my point. Violet has a way of manipulating people. She poisons everything she touches and it makes me sad to see how she's sneaked her way back to Downton.”

“ Does Mama know about this?” Edith asked. “I mean, if she did, she wouldn't want her around!”

“ I've never told this to a single soul and I want to ask you to keep it all to yourself. But....”

“ Yes?”

Abigail reached out to touch Edith's hand. “You could do me a favour.”

“ Everything.”

“ Could you have an eye on her? I mean, I can't bring myself to be around as often as I used to be with her in the house. But I need to know what she is up to.”

Edith nodded in understanding. “Sure... just tell me, what you want me to do. I'll be happy to help.”

“ I knew I could count on you!” Again Abigail patted Edith's hand and smiled contently. In the end it had been easier than she had expected.

 

~~~~~~~

 

 

**Downton Abbey, downstairs**

 

 

“Did you like London, Mrs Hughes?” Carson asked when he and Mrs Hughes were alone in the servants hall. It was a nice afternoon and most of the servants had taken the opportunity to go out, before tea. Elsie had stayed, because one of her own skirts needed some mending, after another maid had stepped on her seam.

“ I didn't have much opportunity to see a lot of it,” she answered with a smirk. “Maybe the next time.”

“ His Lordship told me, her Ladyship said you've risen quite well to the challenge of taking over on such short notice,” he said, which caused the housekeeper to smile.

“ Thank you. It's good to be noticed.”

“ Be sure, you're noticed, Mrs Hughes.” His voice had become lower and suddenly she was aware of his gaze. She stopped sewing and looked up to meet his eyes. She was bit flabbergasted by his attentiveness and didn't quite know how to reply.

“ Mrs Hughes!” Mr Lane came in and stopped, when he noticed he had been interrupting a conversation.

“ Yes, Mr Lane?” Elsie rose from her chair, something she wouldn't have done, if they had been alone, but with another servants present, she felt it was necessary to keep up a certain standard.

“ I just wondered, if you have thought of removing the flowers from Mrs Dewilde's room. She's suffering from hay fever.”

“ I have, Mr Lane,” Elsie answered. “Her maid and I talked about it.”

“ Very well, then. Thank you.” Lane smiled a forced smile and withdrew again, leaving the valet and Mrs Hughes alone.

Carson cleared his throat. “I should go now. I have some things to do, before his Lordship comes upstairs.”

Elsie just nodded and waited until Carson had gone upstairs, before she went to Mr Lane's room. The door was open and he sat behind his desk, apparently busy with decanting the wine for dinner.

“ Since when do you care for the flower arrangements in the bedrooms?” Elsie asked, suspiciously.

“ I don't,” he answered matter-of-factly.

“ So, why did you....”

“ Because I hate the way he's sneaking around you.”

She gasped. “He was friendly,” she exclaimed.

“ He's in love with you,” Lane said bluntly. “I can tell, when a man is after a woman and he is after you. He's just too proper to act on it just yet.”

Elsie opened her mouth and closed it again, too shocked to know what to say. Lane put the bottle of red wine aside and smiled at her. “Don't be so shocked, my dear.”

“ Well, I am shocked! If you'll excuse me now. I think I have better things to do!”

She turned on her heels and left. Lane leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Women,” he mumbled with a shake of his head.

 

**Crawley House, upstairs**

 

One hour after Matthew had gone to bed, Isobel was still sitting in her new sitting room and thought about the past dinner at the Abbey. The evening had been most peculiar. The whole family was a mix of exotic virgin coil and a verbal mine field. She didn't know what to expect from her life in this village. Perhaps she could occupy herself with the local hospital, but she would have to see about that. She would have to take one step after the other.

Her next task was to survive the invitation for tea the Dowager had made after dinner. The invitation had surprised her, because the Dowager didn't seem particularly interested in her or Matthew. On the contrary, Isobel suspected the reason for the invitation was to fish for information, to find out how suitable – or unsuitable – Matthew and she actually were for their new roles.

Isobel couldn't think of any other motive from the Dowager and neither could Matthew who had just been glad to have survived the evening without being torn apart. There had been a lot of tension between him and Mary – the Earl's oldest, coldest and certainly beautiful daughter. Apparently the young woman didn't like to be passed over in favour of a distant cousin she didn't even know.

But Mary Crawley wasn't the only force to be reckoned with. Mary's step-grandmother Abigail, the Dowager Countess, was a rather cold fish, who had spent her evening shooting Robert Crawley's mother angry glances, every time she had said something. Not that she cared. The Princess Kuragin and her Russian husband behaved quite relaxed, despite the obvious disapproval of the Crawley matriarch. Secretly, Isobel wondered about the ominous past of Lord Grantham's mother, it even intrigued her and she intended to find out more in time. It took some nerve to elope with a foreign aristocrat to live in Paris, but it took even more to return to England and make the best of it.

The other surprising element of the evening had been the presence of a couple who turned out to be close friends with the family. Lord – Baron – Merton or Richard Grey, as he was called in true life, and his wife had obviously been placed as mediators at the Grantham's dinner table. The man seemed rather nice, a compelling mix of kindness and good natured humour, which reminded Isobel of her late husband Reginald, while his wife seemed to be the opposite. Ada Grey didn't look happy with her position at the Crawley's table – right between Prince Kuragin and Isobel - and every time Isobel tried to initiate a conversation with her, she was rather short, but then she was also short with everybody else. Including her own husband who just endured her cold comments with a mien of agony. Ada Grey was really the perfect soul mate for someone like the Dowager, Isobel thought amused.

What a surprise that Lady Merton was also invited for tea at the Dower House the next day. The presence of these women would keep Isobel on her toes.

Isobel finished her tea and went slowly upstairs to her new bedroom. Without a doubt the days and weeks ahead promised to be quite interesting and she looked forward to them.

**~~~~~tbc~~~~~**

 


	8. Hidden meanings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail discovers something about Isobel, Robert and Igor spend some quality time together and Carson is in for a surprise when he goes to London!

 

 

**Downton Abbey, upstairs**

 

Alexander Kuragin watched his sister putting on the gloves her maid was handing her. “I can't believe, Mama and you agreed to join this circus,” he said with a shake of his head and slumped into the armchair by the window. 

“ Who else will be there, aside from the bat?” he asked, stretching out his long legs. The bat was the nickname Natasha and he had given Abigail Crawley.

Natasha laughed, “Everyone over twenty-five... Cora, Mrs Crawley, the bat, Mama, I and... frog face.” Her maid chuckled, but Tasha quickly placed her index finger on her lips. “You never heard this, Stuart.”

“ Of course not, Ma'am.”

“ Frog face was....?” Alexander asked, trying to tell the new faces apart.

“ Lady Merton,” Tasha reminded him. “The tall one with the wide mouth and the thousand wrinkles on her forehead.”

“ Ahhh... the one who never smiles.”

“ Downstairs they say, Lady Merton is even more horrible than the Dowager,” Stuart said. “She's very unkind to the servants and even to her own husband.”

“ What are charming bunch,” Alexander said with a sigh. “I'm still not convinced Mama knows what kind of a snake pit she's brought us into.”

“ Oh, I think she knows it and more importantly she enjoys it. And what will you do this afternoon while we endure tea with the bat and frog face?” Tasha asked her brother.

“ I think I'll challenge our father for a game of chess. It's time I get my revenge.”

Natasha smiled, “Good luck then. You'll need it.” No one had ever beaten their father at chess. Alexander dismissed her knowing smile with a casual wave of his hand.

“ You'll see one day, I'll discover his secret to success!”

 

~~~~~~~~

 

**Dower House, upstairs**

 

The mere presence of Violet Kuragin at her table made Abigail sick. And Violet's obvious enjoyment of the afternoon only increased her nausea. Abigail hadn't wanted Violet at her table in the first place, but Cora, of course Cora, had to make sure Violet and her daughter joined them. Now she had to cope with Violet, her breed and the latest colourful addition to the family, a nurse who happened to carry the surname 'Crawley' who thought of herself as the new saviour of the village.

“ Maybe I'll take a look at the local hospital,” Isobel Crawley said.

“ You'll find it well equipped,” Cora said with a smile. “Doctor Clarkson will be glad to show you around.”

“ You don't know that,” Abigail snapped harshly. “He's always rather prim when strangers want to interfere with his work.”

“ I just want to help,” Isobel objected mildly and took a bit from her cake.

“ And Cousin Isobel won't be a stranger for long, I imagine,” Cora added kindly and shot her mother-in-law a dangerous glare. “Help is always welcome at the hospital.”

“ How do you like Crawley House?” Violet asked. “I only remember it as a rather gloomy place, but that could have been the presence of my former mother-in-law.” Violet chuckled.

“ It's a nice house,” Isobel answered. “Very nice indeed. Maybe a bit dark....”

“ Maybe it needs some renovation,” Cora suggested.

“ We've only just arrived,” Isobel said, avoiding a straight answer. “There's so much to think about.”

“ I'm sure you'll find a way to occupy yourself. Maybe as a member of the hospital board,” Violet hinted. “I've heard Lady Grantham has given up interest in the local hospital some time ago.”

Abigail looked, as if she had been slapped. “Where did you that get from?” she asked, her lips a thin line.

“ Alexander and I met the Doctor in the village yesterday and he told us about it,” Natasha, who had been very quiet so far, explained. “I had the impression he feels a little abandoned by you. Maybe you were too occupied with other things lately....”

“ I had no idea you were interested in our hospital,” Abigail said to Tasha.

“ I'm interested in all sorts of things,” Tasha answered. “I'm a patron of a hospital in Paris, as a matter of fact.”

“ You see,” Violet gave Isobel a meaningful smile, “I doubt you'll feel bored around here.”

 

~~~~~~~

 

**Downton Abbey, upstairs**

 

Alexander leaned back, frustrated, because he saw the end coming. His queen was dangerously threatened and as so many times before, he saw no way to out.

“ Checkmate.” His father grinned, satisfied with his victory, and pushed Alexander's queen softly from the board. “If you want to win, you have to concentrate! You have to think ahead!” Igor encouraged him, as he helped himself to a cigarette.

“ Let's face it, I'm not good at thinking ahead,” Alexander sighed and leaned back. “But your latest checkmate is not your only victory today.”

“ What do you mean?”

“ I got a letter from Paris this morning. Seems the woman I got punched for is marrying someone else.”

Kuragin chuckled, “Don't tell me you're surprised.”

“ Not really... but she could have waited one more week before she gave me the brush off, don't you think?”

“ Not many women on earth are as steadfast as your mother or your sister,” Igor reminded him. “Don't worry, one day, you'll find the right one.”

“ From your mouth to God's ear!”

Kuragin chuckled and turned around when the door to the library opened and Robert came in. The Earl stopped dead when he saw the other men, but collected himself quickly and approached them.

“ I hope I'm not interrupting,” he said politely.

“ Oh no,” Alexander answered with an exaggerated sigh of surrender. “You just missed another deadly defeat of mine!”

Robert looked at the chessboard. “I didn't know you're a chess player,” Robert said to Kuragin.

“ It's just a hobby,” Kuragin answered. “Alexander's just angry, because he lacks the patience to set up a strategy.”

“ Don't let him fool you,” Alexander advised Robert. “He's brilliant and knows how to trick people.”

“ As always, he's exaggerating.”

Robert couldn't help but smile at the exchange. “Perhaps it's time to prove him wrong – or right.” He looked invitingly at the board, “Can I challenge you? I'm not that bad and there's still time before the gong is rung.”

“ Why not?” Kuragin nodded at Robert and Alexander rose to allow Robert to use his chair. Igor sat down as well and sorted the chessmen to their starting position.

“ Be my guest. I think I'll go for a walk. Good luck, maybe he won't humiliate you.” Alexander smiled at Robert and on his way out he added, “Let me know how it ends.”

On his way upstairs Alexander smiled contently. It would certainly please his mother to hear that her eldest son was finally warming up to some parts of her second family.

~~~~~~~

 

**Downton Abbey, downstairs**

 

After the servant's dinner was finished, Lane asked Mrs Hughes into his pantry. “Close the door, please,” he said eagerly.

“ What is it?” Elsie asked, somehow amused about the fuss he was making.

“ I want to show you something.” Lane opened his drawer and pulled out his butler's diary. “I read something in the paper yesterday morning.” He opened the book and took out a cleanly cut out piece of paper. Elsie's eyes flew over the small printed lines and her jaw dropped. “The Duke of Norfolk is in need of a new butler?”

“ I intend to apply for the job,” he announced.

“ You want to leave?” she was speechless. Lane had been at Downton for the last fifteen years. First as a footman, before he became butler about ten years ago.

“ Let's say I want a new adventure,” he explained with a smile

“ But you always seem so... content,” she said, still shocked. 

“ Oh, I like Downton. I like the work, but sometimes one has to move on.”

“ You mean you want to move away,” she said, as something was dawning. “I hope this has nothing to do with me.”

“ It has everything to do with you,” Lane confirmed her rising fear. “And nothing at the same time. See, I think the time for a change has come. That's all. I'm sure deep down you agree with me.”

Elsie swallowed and bit her lower lip. She wanted to reply, but didn't know what to say. As so many times before, the man was leaving her speechless.

“ Don't be so glum,” he touched her shoulder with his hand and smiled at her. “I'm sure you and some other people will thank me for it sooner than you think.”

“ Why' s that?”

“ Let's say my resignation will make it possible for Mr Carson to succeed me. Don't you think he deserves a promotion?”

“ It's not my place to decide that,” she argued, but silently she agreed with Lane. Mr Carson was the perfect choice for the position of the butler. The head of the household.

“ No, certainly not, but you won't mind, if he becomes head of the household, will you?”

“ No, I wouldn't,” she admitted after only a heartbeat of hesitation.

Lane smiled gently. “That's what I thought. And you know I always aim to please.”

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

 

**Downton Abbey, upstairs**

 

“Did you enjoy your day, Mylord?” Carson asked, as he helped Robert into his dinner jacket.

“ As a matter of fact, I did,” Robert answered. “I played chess with my stepfather and I won.”

“ I think I read somewhere that chess is some kind of national sport in Russia.”

“ That might be true. To my surprise we had a rather interesting conversation about all sorts of things. Maybe I'm getting used to him after all.”

Robert took a look at the mirror and nodded satisfied. “Thank you, Carson. That'll be all.... Oh wait... .”

“ Yes, Mylord?” Carson asked.

“ I have to go to London the day after tomorrow. It's only for two or three days. Please, prepare everything, will you?”

“ Will we stay in Grantham House?”

“ No, I think the Club will do.”

“ As you wish, Mylord.” Carson bowed his head.

~~~~~~~~

 

**The Village, the next day**

 

Isobel Crawley left the hospital with mixed feelings. The Countess had been right when she had said the hospital was well equipped, but the Doctor had clearly been not too fond of her being there. She had tried not to be impressed by his demeanour, but she had sensed she was a nuisance to him. Maybe she could still become a part of the hospital. She was a nurse and she needed something to do.

She strolled down the street towards the post office to get some stamps when a motorcar slowed down next to her. To her surprise, she came face to face with Lord Merton.

“ Mrs Crawley!” he said with a wide smile.

“ Lord Merton! How are you doing?”

“ I was just wondering if we could take you somewhere. It looks as if it'll start to rain any moment!”

Isobel looked up at the grey sky.

“ That's awfully kind of you, but it won't be necessary,” she answered. “I just need some stamps and then I'll go straight home.”

She hadn't even finished her sentence when the first rain drops hit her.

Lord Merton smiled and opened the door for her. “Let me be your saviour,” he said kindly.

Isobel laughed and shrugged. “Why not?” He offered her his hand and she climbed into his car.

Across the street, Abigail and her maid had watched the scene. Armed and hidden under their umbrellas they watched the motorcar as it drove on and stopped again at the post office.

“ Interesting,” was all Abigail said.

“ What do you mean, Mylady?” her maid asked.

Abigail didn't answer. She knew what she had just witnessed. She knew human nature and she would be damned, if she was wrong about Lord Merton and Mrs Crawley.

 

 

 

**London, St. James Park**

 

After Carson had finished unpacking, the Earl had gone out and Carson had some spare time to fill. He didn't like London very much, but the weather was nice, so he decided to take a walk in St. James’ Park. The park was quite full with all kinds of people who enjoyed what could easily be one of the last nice days of the year.

While he strolled along the Park Lake and watched the birds and ducks, he noticed a woman who stood close by the fence, feeding the animals with old bread. He knew her. She was a maid who had once worked at Grantham House when the family stayed in London. But she had left the house the year before and Carson hadn't been too unhappy about it. Beth MacGregor was her name and it wasn't only her Scottish nationality that reminded him of Mrs Hughes. Her hair was thick and brown and her eyes blue. She looked a lot like the housekeeper in Downton and he had always tried to overlook her, because her sight was painful. But not even today he was safe in London.

For a moment he considered to turn around, hoping he could avoid a meeting, but she had already spotted him and raised her hand. She threw the remaining bread carelessly at the birds and ducks and went to greet him.

“ Mr Carson!” she smiled brightly at him and he, always the gentleman, he lifted his hat.

“ Good afternoon, Beth.”

“ What are you doing in London?” she asked friendly.

“ His Lordship is staying at the Club. It's only for one night,” he explained.

“ I see. Is everything all right in Downton?”

“ Yes.” He cleared his throat, trying to avoid her beautiful, questioning eyes.

“ You know... I wrote you... Once or twice. You could have answered me.”

“ Yes, I guess I could have.”

“ So.... I think you have to make it up to me.”

Carson raised his head, surprised by her boldness. “I beg your pardon.”

“ You'll have to invite me for tea.”

 Every other woman would have delivered this line with a cheeky, even aggressive smile, but not so Beth MacGregor. There was nothing aggressive about her. Beth was after all a good girl. The decent kind like her namesake.

“ It would be an honour.”

He offered her his arm and she took it with a gracious smile. “Now tell me, Charles, has life treated you kindly?”

 

 

**~~~~tbc~~~~**

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to my beta Gemenied! *Hugs, Darling*


	9. Forbidden

 

 

**Downton Abbey, Downstairs, April 1913**

 

Charles Carson, who had been butler at Downton Abbey for the last four months, closed to the door to his pantry and sighed. Sometimes it felt good to be alone. His new position in the household was demanding. He had expected that, of course, but as always when one started something new, many things had been a lot different than imagined. It was after 10 o'clock now and the house would soon be asleep. He had locked the doors and now he was finally on his own. There was a letter lying on his desk that waited to be opened.

He knew the neat writing on the envelope and somehow he craved to open it. And then he felt utterly ashamed by even thinking of it. Yet, he knew he would open and read it. Then he would write back, knowing he should better go to sleep, because he needed the rest before another, much more demanding day would begin.

The family was to host a shooting party over the weekend and the guest list was exquisite. Everything needed to be perfect. He could stand for nothing less than perfect.

Carson approached his desk and took the letter, but before he could open it, a soft knock at his door disturbed him. He hid his letter inside his jacket just in time, before Mrs Hughes could peek in.

"Mr Carson?" she asked gently.

"Yes, Mrs Hughes?"

"Do you care for a cup of tea? I gather it'll be the last one for the next few days."

Carson nodded slowly. "That's probably true, Mrs Hughes. I'll be right with you."

The housekeeper smiled gently at him. "I think we deserve something nice before the weekend starts." He returned the smile, but he felt that the smile didn't reach his eyes.

She left and for several moments Carson stared at the closed door. He still wasn't used to their new status. They were equals now. They both were responsible for the household and naturally there was a gap between them and the other servants. He had replaced Mr Lane and as expected, his new position had brought Carson closer to Mrs Hughes – and this new found, strictly professional closeness was pure torture. He touched his jacket where Beth MacGregor's letter was hidden and thought grimly that he deserved every kind of emotional torture he had been enduring so far. He was paying for his sins. Nothing more, nothing less.

 

~~~~~

 

**Downton Abbey, upstairs, two days later**

 

Exhausted by the fast ride Mary Crawley climbed down her horse and handed the reins over to William, the young footman. She had never felt more alive than in the last few hours. She had always loved hunting. It agreed with her. The excitement and the fresh air allowed her to feel free and less restricted. But neither the hunt nor the fresh air could compete with the special guest at Downton. Kemal Pamuk was as exotic and adventurous as she had pictured a Turk. And he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.

She felt challenged by his presence in the Abbey and for the first time she completely understood why her grandmother had felt the need to run away from her English husband and her English life. Now she understood. She knew why. A life with someone who couldn't be less English must have had its advantages.

"Well, Lady Mary," Pamuk gave her a bright smile. "I hope you haven't been disappointed with my hunting skills."

Mary returned his smile. "On the contrary, Mr Pamuk. So far I'm rather impressed. **"**

"Then I shall do my best to keep up the impression."

 

~~~~~~

 

**Downton Village, the same day**

 

Isobel crossed the street leading to the hospital with uncertain feelings. Her latest project to grow closer to the Granthams had turned out to be a complete disaster. When she had learned from Cora that the Dowager Countess had been taken ill, she had thought it a good idea to pay a visit to see how she was doing and if she could be of help.

As a former nurse Isobel was used to people who were in bad spirits and even worse shape, but the Dowager had been even less welcoming than usual. She certainly had a bad cold, but her mood was in an even worse state. After five minutes of forced conversation Isobel had practically fled the house. After all, she could use her energy better than wasting it on someone as ill-tempered as Abigail Crawley.

“ Mrs Crawley?” Irritated and still unused to hear her name around the village she turned. Lord Merton climbed out of his car to greet her.

Isobel returned his smile, unsure of herself. “Lord Merton. How nice to see you.”

“ It is my pleasure,” he said, taking off his hat. “How are you doing? It's been some time since we last met.”

“ Fine. Just fine. I'm on my way to the hospital,” she said. “Maybe I can lend a hand to Dr Clarkson.”

“ I see.” Merton said. “I hope you have found a new home in Downton.”

“ As a matter of fact I have,” Isobel said and was almost surprised to find it true. “The Granthams have been awfully nice to us.”

“ I'm glad to hear it. You know I was wondering....”

“ Yes?” Isobel encouraged him when she saw his hesitation.

He shook his head, unable to phrase what was apparently on his mind, “Never mind... I think Dr Clarkson can call himself lucky to have you around.”

Isobel smirked. “I'm not sure he agrees with you, but I always hope to make a difference.”

“ I'm sure you do make a difference.”

Isobel blushed and didn't know what or how to respond. Lord Merton made a small bow and quickly bid his goodbye.

“ Good day, Mrs Crawley. Perhaps we will meet again soon.”

“ Goody day, Lord Merton.” Flabbergasted and with a hint of guilt she watched him, as he climbed into his motorcar. He was always so kind to her. There was something about him that got under her skin. Perhaps it was her fault. Perhaps she was reading too much into his kindness, because nothing could come out of it anyway. She reminded herself of the fact that his Lordship was a married man. No matter how nice and charming he was towards her.

She watched Merton's car passing and waved cautiously, as she tried to convince herself that nothing was wrong with the attention he paid her. Isobel drew a deep breath and continued on her way towards the hospital.

 

 

 

**Downton Abbey, upstairs, night**

 

The clock on the mantelpiece in the library struck midnight, when Robert entered the room. It had been a long day. The hunt had been a huge success and everybody was in rather good spirits. Perhaps the fact that his stepmother was too ill to attend dinner had had a positive impact on everybody's mood. Just as Cora, Robert had grown tired of Abigail's endless nagging at the dinner table and was glad she had caught the flu and couldn't embarrass him and the family in front of Evelyn Napier and his foreign friend.

Robert sighed wearily, opened his white tie, and poured himself a drink.

"Would you care to pour me a brandy?"

He startled and turned around. He thought he had been alone, but now he saw his mother sitting on the couch by the fireplace.

"Of course. I thought you had already gone to bed."

"I'm not tired yet," she explained."The older I get, the less I seem to sleep."

"Your husband told me, you are thinking of moving to England permanently," Robert said, as he handed Violet her glass.

"Yes, we are," she said, a bit pensive. "Though I'm not sure, he is as happy about it, as he pretends to be."

Robert raised his eyebrows. "So, why would he agree to it?"

Violet smiled. "For me. It's surprising what people do to please their loved ones."

"Indeed," he gulped his drink and helped himself to the next one.

“ That means... unless...,” she fell silent and watched him attentively.

“ Yes?”

“ Unless you think we've already overstayed our welcome.”

“ Does my opinion really matter?” he asked, surprised she was actually asking for his opinion.

“ Yes, it does matter. It is your home. You are the Earl of Grantham.” She had said it with a note of pride in her voice that he had never noticed before and it made him curious.

“ Perhaps it is fair, considering the fact that you never asked my opinion when you left the family.”

For a moment Violet seemed speechless, but as always, she recovered quickly. “It's better to seek forgiveness than ask permission,” she returned and he noticed a flicker in his mothers' eyes that he hadn't seen before.

“ Are you asking for forgiveness?” Robert asked, doubtful.

“ I'm asking for a chance.”

He sighed, knowing he wouldn't refuse her anything, something that she perhaps counted on. “Then you should have it. But make sure to hold peace with Abigail. I'm quite tired of your constant wars over the table.”

“ I'll be as gentle as a lamb with her,” Violet declared and finished her brandy with a content smile on her face. Robert almost choked on his whiskey, but preferred not to comment. They day Violet and Abigail stopped fighting would be a cold day in hell.

 

~~~~~

 

Mary Crawley was trembling. She was hot and cold at the same time. Her pulse was racing in her veins and in her head. All she felt was sheer panic and she couldn't think straight. She stared at the body on her bed and was scared beyond measure. Kemal Pamuk was dead. He had died in her bed. Damn, he had died inside of her, which was even more eerie and made her completely sick.

Her head was spinning and she already felt how her stomach was revolting. She made it into the bathroom just in time. She cried while she spit out the bitter mix of bile and her dinner until her stomach was as empty as her heart and her head.

What could she do? If anyone found him here, she was ruined. Her life would be over. No other man would marry or even look at her. She was damaged, disgraced, and doomed. Her father would die from shame, her mother would hate her, and Edith would laugh straight into her face. Sybil would perhaps still love her, but Sybil always loved everybody, because Sybil was a saint. And who cared for what the saints had to say?

Who was there left to safe her? Who would safe her?

Slowly, she pulled herself up and looked at her face in the mirror. She looked awful. Her red eyes were a terrifying contrast to her pale skin, of which she used to be so proud of. Kemal Pamuk had adored her pale skin, as he had undressed her...

Mary closed her eyes, tried to fight the memories, the demon of her now late lover. She needed to find help. He couldn't be found in her bedroom. His life was over, but she needed to make sure, hers wouldn't end, before her time had come.

 

 

~~~~~

 

Natasha DeWilde swallowed when she saw the dead body in Mary's bed. It wasn't the first corpse she had seen, but she was far from getting used to the sight.

“ Well, that's an interesting problem,” Natasha said, after taking a long, deep breath.

“ He just.... passed out,” Mary explained with a shaking voice.

“ I see... I hope he didn't... hurt you?” Tasha asked carefully.

Mary quickly shook her head. “Him coming here was a surprise, but no, he didn't hurt me.”

Tasha nodded. “Look, the two of us won't be able to move him. He'll be too heavy. Dead people are always so very heavy...,” An ugly memory of a night in her own house appeared in her mind. A night when she called for her brother to move a body. Just like now it had had to be done. One way or the other.

“ I know who can help us.” Tasha looked straight at Mary, demanding her full attention. “But you have to trust me. Do you trust me, Mary?”

“ Do I have a choice?” Mary asked, as her eyes lay on the dead, naked man in her bed.

“ I'm afraid not. Stay here. Lock your door and only open to me. I'll be right back.” She reached out to touch Mary's hand. “Wash your face and try to calm down. This is going to be all right, but you need to focus now. Understood?”

Mary nodded, still staring at the late Mr Pamuk. Impatiently Tasha grabbed her chin and forced Mary to face her. “You can mourn him later, if you feel the need to. But now you have to think of yourself!”

“ I know.” Again Mary nodded and this time her eyes remained on Tasha. “I know,” Mary repeated, now a bit more collected.

“ Good,” Tasha said. “Now wait here. I'll be right back.”

 

 

~~~~~

 

“Seriously?” Alexander rubbed his face with both hands, before he turned to his sister. “Tasha, I think I'm having a déja vu.”

“ Shh!” Tasha hissed and shook her head. This wasn't the time for bad jokes. Her niece (it was actually the first time she realized Mary was their niece) needed help.

Alexander sighed and looked at Mary who was standing right in front of bed and wasn't listening, because she was still staring at her dead lover. Having realized that Mary was still in shock, Alexander went to her and gently touched her shoulder.

“ Mary, we need to get him back to his bed. Tasha and I will carry him by his shoulders, you take the feet. We have not much time left, before the servants will be awake.”

Mary turned to face him. “Yes, I know... it's just that....” she broke off, again close to tears.

“ I know,” Alexander said kindly. “But it has to be done.”

Mary nodded. “I know. I'm sorry to have dragged you into this.”

Alexander shrugged and gave his sister a strange look. “That's what family is for. We show up when our loved ones are in trouble. Ask my father about it. I for one hope he will never write his memoirs.”

~~~~~

 

Edith woke up and sensed something was wrong. She couldn't say what it was, but she had this feeling something was up. She kept lying in the darkness for several moments and then she heard something. A strange noise, but it was nothing in her room. The noise came from the hallway. Scared and yet excited, Edith climbed out of bed and tiptoed to her door. She placed her ear against the door and listened carefully. Someone was in the hallway. She heard voices and... movements, but... driven by curiosity, she opened her door and peeked out. It was still quite dark, but she could make out a few figures at the end of the hallway... and they were carrying someone... It took Edith several seconds before every detail, every puzzle piece she saw finally became a picture, but once she had realized the truth, her breath caught. There were the Kuragins... the younger ones and a third party that she couldn't get a glimpse of and they carried a man.... an obviously dead man... . Quickly Edith hid again behind her bedroom door and leaned against it. Her heartbeat increased and she could barely process what she had seen. What if she had she just witnessed a murder?

 

**~~tbc~~**

 

 

 


	10. Foreboding

 

**Dower House, two weeks later, afternoon**

 

Abigail Crawley stared at Edith, as if her granddaughter had just handed her the holy grail. She chuckled with almost ecstatic delight while she grabbed Edith's hand and squeezed it until it hurt.

“Are you sure that's what you saw?” Abigail asked. “You saw the Kuragins while they carried the dead body of this Turk around the house?”

Edith hesitated, but then she nodded. She pulled her hand back and rubbed it, because in her enthusiasm Abigail had almost squashed it. “Yes. It was them.”

“Do you think he was in Mrs DeWilde's room?”

“I don't know,” Edith answered truthfully. “Maybe. I couldn't see from where they took him.”

“Or perhaps he was in young Mr Kuragin's room,” Abigail smiled deviously. “It doesn't matter. But do you know what this means, dear?”

Edith smiled weakly, but said nothing. “It means that whore and her foul tribe can go back to Paris!”

“But....”

“No 'but', Edith. I'm so grateful to you! You have just saved our family!”

 

 

**Downton Abbey, night**

 

“I want us to have our own house,” Igor said and turned his head to face Violet who lay in his arms. This wasn't the first time they had discussed the matter, but so far they a final solution seemed out of reach. “I want a place where I can scream and shout when I feel like it.”

“And scare the hell out of the servants,” Violet quipped.

“They can plug their ears.”

“Robert says he just knows the perfect house for us.”

“But it belongs to the estate, doesn't it.”

Violet knew where this was leading. “Robert is the Earl now. You won't move into the house of my former husband.” She knew Igor was sensitive about the subject and she understood his wish not to live in a place that was connected to Robert's father, but she approached the subject from a more practical point. They needed their own house and Robert had one to offer.

“ I'm not even sure, he ever set a foot in it,” Violet continued. “It's been empty for decades.” She reached up and caressed his cheek with her fingertips. “Let's have a look at it first, before you dismiss the idea,” she suggested tenderly.

Igor grunted, “I don't have a say in this anyway, have I?”

She smiled, knowing she had won. “You knew what you were getting yourself into.”

For several moments he looked at her with gleaming eyes. “I guess I did. And I wouldn't want to have it any other way.” He took her hand and kissed her fingertips. “All right, we will go and see that house, but we won't move in unless....”

“Yes.”

“ You'll agree to make love to me in every room in this dream house of yours.” He started to unbutton her nightshirt. It was not the most subtle way of seduction, but after almost forty years she was used to his games. To keep the game going she watched him as indifferently as she could, while he undressed her with growing anticipation.

“That's blackmail,” she stated lowly.

“It's the deal I'm offering,” he said mischievously, as his hand slipped inside her nightwear. “You know I love gambling for higher stakes.”

“And I like to get what I want,”she purred and leaned in to kiss him.

 

 

~~~~~

 

**Crawley House, the next morning**

 

“The morning post, Ma'am.” As he did every morning, Molseley handed Isobel the mail on a small silver plate, when she came downstairs.

“ Thank you, Molseley,” Isobel gave him a smile and took the letters. One letter was from a friend in Manchester, the other one from Lord Merton. It was the second letter since she had seen him last time in the village. Suddenly she wished she hadn't answered the first one, but she was excited to see he had written back. She knew he was interested in medicine and since the local doctor was still quite dismissive of her, it was nice to share her opinions with someone who was ready to listen and equally interested in modern treatments.

“Mr Matthew has left early this morning,” Molseley informed her while she turned the envelope nervously in her hands. “He had an early appointment, but he said he'd be back for luncheon.”

“Yes, he may have mentioned it last night. Anything else?” She asked absent-mindedly.

“ No, Ma'am. Breakfast is ready,” Molseley answered with irritation when he realized that she couldn't care less about the things he had just told her.

“Thank you.”

“Ma'am?”

“Yes?” she asked, without looking up.

“Could I have the afternoon off?”

 

 

~~~~~~

 

**Downton Village**

 

On his way home, Matthew noticed Mary who was leaving the post office. He climbed off his bicycle to greet her.

“Cousin Mary, how are you? We haven't seen each other in a while.”

“How true!” she responded.

“How are things at the Abbey?” Matthew asked. He knew the death of the Turkish diplomat two weeks ago had deeply shocked the family. It didn't happen too often that strangers died under one‘s roof and with a foreign diplomat the matter was even more delicate.

“We've calmed down, I think,” Mary said, carefully avoiding to look at him.

“I'm glad to hear that. It must have been quite a shock.”

“It was. But it's all taken care of,” Mary said quickly.

“Good.” Matthew fell silent, as always when Mary was around, he wasn't quite sure what to say. She was an endless enigma to him. Sometimes she was shy and almost modest like now, sometimes she was shrew.

“I think Mama will write to you and Cousin Isobel quite soon,” Mary said. “She's planning a dinner party.”

“How nice.”

“ I'm not so sure,” Mary said with a strange smile. “Every time my two grandmothers sit at the same table, we all keep our shields up. I'd advise you to bring full armour.”

Mathew chuckled. “Don't forget with whom I grew up. I'm used to fierce women.”

“That should come in handy,” Mary joked.

They had reached Crawley House and stopped, unsure how to proceed. “It was nice talking to you,” Matthew said warmly.

“Yes, it was,” Mary agreed. “Give your mother my best.”

“I will.”

Mary smiled again at Matthew and then she continued her walk home, wondering why she suddenly felt so light.

 

~~~~~

 

In the afternoon Charles Carson went into the village. It was a calm day at the house and the perfect opportunity to get some things done. By degrees he was getting used to his position in the household. The house was running smoothly and he almost enjoyed his new post. What he enjoyed most was his growing, yet still very professional, relationship with Mrs Hughes. With her at his side things were running smoothly, which was perhaps all he could ask for right now. He hadn't heard from Beth MacGregor in weeks. In his last letter to her he had made it unmistakably clear that their relationship was over for good. It had been insane to begin with and he hoped he hadn't hurt her more than necessary.

He reached the Grantham Arms and contemplated to have a pint, before he returned to the Abbey, but stopped in his tracks when he noticed a familiar face in front of the pub. It was a face he knew, but didn't really associate with Downton. A face that shouldn't be here. He turned and vanished around the corner where he took his time to recover.

Beth MacGregor was in Downton. He didn't know why or how, but he had to find out. Better sooner than later!

 

~~~~

 

 

**Dower House**

 

Natasha DeWilde wasn't sure how she had come to the honour of being invited to the Dower House for tea, but the mere fact that she and the Dowager Countess were alone was enough to make her uncomfortable. The smile on the old woman's face only supported her theory that something unpleasant lay ahead of her. It was no secret that Abigail hated Violet and the rest of her 'second' family with passion. From the very first day the Kuragins had set foot into Downton the Dowager had tried to drive them away, but she had underestimated the will power of the family. The Kuragins had always been outcasts and they had learned to take their stand.

“I'm so glad you had time to join me for tea today,” Abigail said with a sweet smile. “I know how busy you are.”

“ I'm as busy as the others are,” Tasha answered and ignored the cup Abigail was handing her. “But I don't see any of them. To what do I owe this exclusive pleasure?”

“ Well, I thought it's time the two of us got better acquainted,” Abigail answered. “I was wondering how you like Yorkshire so far.”

Tasha crooked her eyebrow. “I like it. I've always wanted to get to know my mother's home country.”

“But you used to live in Paris. Isn't it incredibly dull here compared to a vibrant city like Paris?”

“Not as dull as you might think,” Tasha mused gently. “Listen, Lady Grantham, I'm not here to be questioned about my life in rural Yorkshire. Whatever it is you want to see me about, it's time you tell me about it.”

“You're just like your mother, Mrs DeWilde. She's never been one to waste her time with kind words when a direct attack has the same effect.”

“I'm glad you have noticed that by now.”

“She's also never been one to be discreet.”

Tasha rolled her eyes, “Please, get to the point.”

“She has never been a person who valued English virtues. Duty and discretion are not exactly her strongest suit, neither are they yours.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“You were certainly not very discreet when you and your brother carried the corpse of a dead diplomat through the Abbey in the middle of the night.”

For a second Tasha was astonished, but then she laughed. “You are as mad as a hatter!”

Abigail remained calm. “I don't think so. You were seen, you know. Listen, I don't care in which bedroom the young man passed away, but it was either yours or your brothers.”

“And if so?” Tasha asked, still sneering.

“ I don't think I can allow you and your family to stay around. Imagine the scandal, if someone finds out. You know firsthand how vile the papers can be. Remember your husband and his horrible death. The press was haunting you for months. You and your family had enough to go through, don't you think so?”

Natasha was slowly sobering up. “I know how delightful all this must sound to you, Lady Grantham. I know you've only waited for this opportunity, but I have to disappoint you. As it happens, Mr Pamuk did not die in my bedroom or my brother‘s. You're wasting your time and your breath.”

“You can't prove he didn't die in your bed. I wonder how your father will react to this.” The threat hung in the air and now Tasha was sick of playing games.

“Careful. You should never threaten someone, unless you are one hundred percent sure, you know what you are talking about. If anything of this leaves this room, you'll answer to me and it won't be pretty. I guarantee you that.”

Abigails' eyes glittered amused, “Will I end on at the bottom of the stairs with a broken neck?”

“Perhaps. At your age, you can never know. One false step and.... ” Natasha hung in the air, as she rose. “Leave us alone or you'll regret it.”

The daughter of Violet and Igor Kuragin left the room without giving Abigail another look.

 

 

~~~~~

 

**Crawley House**

 

After dinner Isobel and Matthew retired into the drawing room.

“Was there something interesting in the mail today?” Matthew looked up from his book, when he heard his mother searching for something on the small desk.

“No,” Isobel answered quickly. “Why?”

“I met Cousin Mary in the village this afternoon. She said Cousin Cora wanted to invite us for a dinner party.”

“ I see.” Relieved Isobel shook her head. For a second she had feared he knew about her correspondence with Lord Merton, but even if... what was wrong with correspondence? Nothing.

She cleared her throat. “No mail from the Abbey today.”

Matthew shrugged. “Perhaps tomorrow. God knows I'm not keen on another evening of forced conversation and stiff collars.”

“ Well, it's your future. Get used to it,” she said and wondered how life would be once her son carried the title. It still seemed too unreal to be true.

Matthew smiled at her. “I'm doing my best, Mother. I'm doing my best.”

 

 

**~tbc~**

 


End file.
